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OBITUARY ADDRESSES 



OCCASION OF THE DEATH 



HON. HENRY CLAY, 

A SENATOR OF THE UNITED STATES FROM THE STATE OF 

KENTUCKY, 



DELIVERED IN THE 



Senile s®b it) iije Wotfsc of ^cpixsei^fibes 



JUNE 30, 1852, 



FUNERAL SERMON OF THE REV. C. M. BTJTIER, 

CHAPLAIN OF THE SENATE, 

PREACHED IN THE SENATE, JULY 1, 1852. 



£rtQfed 6ij oi-deir of tye geitffe wd ifoiisc of fyphHrfqiibcs. 



WASHINGTON: 

PRINTED BY ROBERT ARMSTRONG. 

1852. 






ex rV 
AIM 9 1^17 



II .») 



SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES. 
July 2, 1852. 



Mr. Maxgum submitted the following resolution, which 
was considered, by unanimous consent, and agreed to : — 

Resolved, That the Committee of Arrangements 
cause to be published in a pamphlet form, and in 
such manner as may seem to them appropriate, for 
the use of the Senate, ten thousand copies of the 
addresses made by the members of the Senate, and 
members of the House of Representatives, together 
with the discourse of the Rev. Dr. Butlek, upon the 
occasion of the death of the Hon. Henry Clay. 

Attest, 

ASBURY DlCKINS, 

Secretary. 



■i> 



'• 



OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 



SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, 
Wednesday, June 30, 1852. 

After the reading of the Journal, Mr. Underwood rose, 
and addressed the Senate, as follows : 

Mr. President: I rise to announce the death of 
my colleague, Mr. Clay. He died at his lodgings, 
in the National Hotel of this city, at seventeen 
minutes past eleven o'clock yesterday morning, in 
the seventy-sixth year of his age. He expired with 
perfect composure, and without a groan or struggle. 

By his death our country has lost one of its most 
eminent citizens and statesmen; and, I think, its 
greatest genius. I shall not detain the Senate by 
narrating the transactions of his long and useful life. 
His distinguished services as a statesman are insepa- 
rably connected with the history' of his country. 
As Representative and Speaker in the other House 
of Congress, as Senator in this body, as Secretary of 
State, and as Envoy abroad, he has, in all these 
positions, exhibited a wisdom and patriotism which 
have made a deep and lasting impression upon the 
grateful hearts of his countrymen. His thoughts 



■• 



and his actions have already beeD published to the 

world iii written biography; in Congressional de- 
bates and reports; in the Journals of the two Bout 
and in the pages of American history. They have 
been commemorated by monuments erected <>n the 
wayside. They have been engraven on medals of 
gold. Their memory will survive the monuments 
of marble and the medals of gold ; for these are ef- 
faced and decay by the friction of ages. But the 
thoughts and actions of my late colleague have be- 
come identified with the immortality of the human 
mind, and will pass down from generation to genera- 
tion as a portion of our national inheritance, incapa- 
ble of annihilation so long as genius has an admirer, 
or liberty a friend. 

Mr. President, the character of Henry ('lay was 
formed and developed by the influence of our free 
institutions. His physical, mental, and moral facul- 
ties were the gift of God. That they were greatly 
superior to the faculties allotted to mosl men cannot 
be questioned. They were not cultivated, improved, 
and directed by a liberal or collegiate education. 
His respectable parents were not wealthy, and had 
qoI tin' means of maintaining their children at col- 

Moreover, his father died when he was a boy. 
At an early period, .Mr. Ci.ay was thrown upon his 
own resources, without patrimony. lie grew up in 
a clerk's office in Richmond, Virginia. He there 
studied law. He emigrated from his native State 



•«1 



and settled in Lexington, Kentucky, where he com- 
menced the practice of his profession before he was 
of full age. 

The road to wealth, to honour, and fame, was 
open before him. Under our Constitution and laws 
he might freely employ his great faculties unob- 
structed by legal impediments, and unaided by ex- 
clusive privileges. Very soon Mr. Clay made a 
deep and favourable impression upon the people 
among whom he began his career. The excellence 
of his natural faculties was soon displayed. Neces- 
sity stimulated him in their cultivation. His as- 
siduity, skill, and fidelity in professional engage- 
ments secured public confidence. He was elected 
member of the Legislature of Kentucky, in which 
body he served several sessions prior to 1806. In 
that year he was elevated to a seat in the Senate of 
the United States. 

At the bar and in the General Assembly of Ken- 
tucky, Mr. Clay first manifested those high qualities 
as a public speaker which have secured to him so 
much popular applause and admiration. His physi- 
cal and mental organization eminently qualified him 
to become a great and impressive orator. His per- 
son was tall, slender, and commanding. His tem- 
perament ardent, fearless, and full of hope. His 
countenance clear, expressive, and variable — indicat- 
ing the emotion which predominated at the moment 
with exact similitude. His voice, cultivated and 



8 

modulated in harmony with the Bentiment he <!»•- 
Bired to express, fell upon the ear like the melody 
of enrapturing music. His eye beaming with intelli- 
gence and flashing with coruscations of genius. His 
gestures and attitudes graceful and natural. These 
personal advantages won the prepossessions of an 
audience, even before bis intellectual powers began 
to move bis hearers ; and when his strong common 
sense, his profound reasoning, bis clear conceptions 
of bis subject in all its bearings, and bis striking and 
beautiful illustrations, united with such personal 
qualities, were brought to the discussion of any 
question, bis audience was enraptured, convinced, 
and led by the orator as if enchanted by the lyre of 
( tarpheus. 

No man was ever blessed by bis Creator with 
faculties of a higher order of excellence than those 
given to Mr. Clay. In the quickness of bis per- 
ceptions, and the rapidity with which his con- 
clusions were formed, he bad lew equals and no 
Buperior. lb- was eminently endowed with a nice 

discriminating taste for order, symmetry, and beauty. 

He detected in a moment every thing out of place 
or deficient in his room, upon his farm, in his own 

or the die-- of others. He was a skilful judge of 
the form ami qualities of his dome-tic animals, which 
he delighted to raise on his farm. I could give VOU 
instances of the quickness and minuteness of his 
keen faculty of observation which never overlooked 



1 , = * 



any thing. A want of neatness and order was offen- 
sive to him. He was particular and neat in his 
handwriting, and his apparel. A slovenly blot or 
negligence of any sort met his condemnation ; while 
he was so organized that he attended to, and arranged 
little things to please and gratify his natural love 
for neatness, order, and beauty, his great intellectual 
faculties grasped all the subjects of jurisprudence 
and politics with a facility amounting almost to in- 
tuition. As a lawyer, he stood at the head of his 
profession. As a statesman, his stand at the head 
of the Republican Whig party for nearly half a 
century, establishes his title to pre-eminence among 
his illustrious associates. 

Mr. Clay was deeply versed in all the springs of 
human action. He had read and studied biography 
and history. Shortly after I left college, I had 
occasion to call on him in Frankfort, where he was 
attending court, and well I remember to have found 
him with Plutarch's Lives in his hands. No one 
better than he knew how to avail himself of human 
motives, and all the circumstances which surrounded 
a subject, or could present them with more force and 
skill to accomplish the object of an argument. 

Mr. Clay, throughout his public career, was in- 
fluenced by the loftiest patriotism. Confident in the 
truth of his convictions and the purity of his pur- 
poses, he was ardent, sometimes impetuous, in the 
pursuit of objects which he believed essential to the 



LO 

genera] welfare. Tlio.se who stood in his way \ 
thrown aside without fear or ceremony. He never 
affected a courtier's deference to men or opinions 
which he thoughl hostile to the best interests of his 
country: and hence he may have wounded the 
vanity of those who thoughl themselves of conse- 
(juence. ]t is certain, whatever the eause. that at 
one period of his life Mr. Clay might have been 
referred to as proof that there is more truth than 
fiction in those profound lines of the poet — 

" He who a8CeDds the inuuntain tup shall find 

It- Loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; 
He who surpasses ur subdues mankind, 

Must look down on the hate of those below : 

Though far above the bud of glory glow, 
And far beneath the earth and ocean Bpread. 

Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
Contending tempests on hi* naked head. 
And thus reward the toils which to those summits led." 

Calumny and detraction emptied their vials upon 
him. But how glorious the change! He outlived 
malice and envy. He lived long enough to prove to 
the world that his ambition was no more than a 
holy aspiration to make his country the greatest, 
most powerful, and besl governed on the earth, [f 
he desired its highest office, it was because the 
greater power and influence resulting from Mich 
elevation would enable him to do more than he 
otherwise could for the progress and advancement — 
first of his own countrymen, then of his whole race. 
His sympathies embraced all. The African slave, 



11 

the Creole of Spanish America, the children of reno- 
vated classic Greece — all families of men, without 
respect to color or clime, found in his expanded 
bosom and comprehensive intellect a friend of their 
elevation and amelioration. Such ambition as that, 
is God's implantation in the human heart for raising 
the down-trodden nations of the earth, and fitting 
them for regenerated existence in politics, in morals, 
and religion. 

Bold and determined as Mr. Clay was in all his 
actions, he was, nevertheless, conciliating. He did 
not obstinately adhere to things impracticable. If 
he could not accomplish the best, he contented him- 
self with the nighest approach to it. He has been 
• the great compromiser of those political agitations 
and opposing opinions which have, in the belief of 
thousands, at different times, endangered the perpe- 
tuity of our Federal Government and Union. 

Mr. Clay was no less remarkable for his admirable 
social qualities than for his intellectual abilities. As 
a companion, he was the delight of his friends; and 
no man ever had better or truer. They have loved 
him from the beginning, and loved him to the last. 
His hospitable mansion at Ashland was always open 
to their reception. No guest ever thence departed 
without feeling happier for his visit. But, alas! 
that hospitable mansion has already been converted 
into a house of mourning; already has intelligence 
of his death passed with electric velocity to that aged 



L2 

and now widowed lady who, Tor more than fifty 
years, bore to him all the endearing relations of wife, 
and whose feeble condition prevented her from join- 
ing him in this city, and Boothing the anguish of 
Life's lasl scene by those endearing attentions which 
no one can give bo well as woman and a wife. May 
God infuse into her heart and mind the Christian 
spirit of submission under her bereavement! It 
cannot be long before she may expecl a reunion in 
Heaven. A nation condoles with her and her chil- 
dren on account of their irreparable loss. 

Mr. Clay, from the nature of his disease, declined 
very gradually. He bore his protracted Bufferings 
with meat equanimity and patience. On one occa- 
sion, he said to me, that when death was inevitable 
and must soon come, and when the Bufferer was 
ready to die, he did not perceive Hie wisdom of 
praying to be "delivered from sudden death." He 
thought under such circumstances the sooner Buffer- 
ing was relieved by death the better. He desired 
the termination of his own sufferings, while he 
acknowledged the duty of patiently waiting and 
abiding the pleasure of God. Mr. Clay frequently 
Bpoke to me of his hope of eternal life, founded upon 
the merits of Jesus Chrisl as a Saviour; who, as he 
remarked, came into the world to bring "life and 
immortality to Light." He was a member of the 
Episcopalian Church. In one of our conversations 

he told me. thai as his hour of dissolution ap- 



19 
O 

proached, he found that his affections were concen- 
trating more and more upon his domestic circle — his 
wife and children. In my daily visits he was in the 
habit of asking me to detail to him the transactions 
of the Senate. This I did, and he manifested much 
interest in passing occurrences. His inquiries were 
less frequent as his end approached. For the week 
preceding his death he seemed to be altogether ab- 
stracted from the concerns of the world. When he 
became so low that he could not converse without 
being fatigued, he frequently requested those around 
him to converse. He would then quietly listen. 
He retained his mental faculties in great perfection. 
His memory remained perfect. He frequently men- 
tioned events and conversations of recent occurrence, 
showing that he had a perfect recollection of what 
was said and done. He said to me that he was 
grateful to God for continuing to him the blessing of 
reason, which enabled him to contemplate and reflect 
on his situation. He manifested during his confine- 
ment the same characteristics which marked his 
conduct through the vigour of his life. He was ex- 
ceedingly averse to give his friends "trouble," as he 
called it. Some time before he knew it, we com- 
menced waiting through the night in an adjoining 
room. He said to me, after passing a painful day, 
" Perhaps some one had better remain all night in 
the parlour." From this time he knew some friend 
was constantly at hand ready to attend to him. 



II 

Mr. President, the majestic form of Mr. Clay will 
do more grace these Balls. No more shall we hear 
tliat voice which has bo often thrilled and charmed 
the assembled representatives of the American peo- 
ple. No more Bhall we see thai waving hand and 
eye of light) as when he was engaged unfolding his 
policy in regard to the varied interests of our grow- 
ing and mighty republican empire. His voice is 
silent on earth for ever. The darkness of death has 
obscured the Lustre of his eye. But the memory of 
his services — not only to his beloved Kentucky, not 
only to the United States, but for the cause of 
human freedom and progress throughout the world 
— will live through future ages, as a bright example, 
stimulating and encouraging his own countrymen 
ami the people of all nations in their patriotic devo- 
tions to country and humanity. 

With Christians, there is yet a nobler and a 
higher thought in regard to Mr. Clay. They will 
think of him in connection with eternity. They 

will contemplate his immortal spirit occupying its 

true relative magnitude among the moral stars of 

glorj in the presence of God. They will think of 
him as having fulfilled the duties allotted to him on 
earth, having been regenerated by Divine -race, and 
having passed through the valley of the shadow ui' 

death, and reached an everlasting and happy home 
in that "house ii"l made with hands, eternal in the 

hea\ ens." 



15 

On Sunday morning last, I was watching alone at 
Mr. Clay's bedside. For the last hour he had been 
unusually quiet, and I thought he was sleeping. In 
that, however, he told me I was mistaken. Opening 
his eyes and looking at me, he said, " Mr. Under- 
wood, there may be some question where my re- 
mains shall be buried. Some persons may designate 
Frankfort. I wish to repose at the cemetery in 
Lexington, where many of my friends and connec- 
tions are buried." My reply was, "I will endeavour 
to have your wish executed." 

I now ask the Senate to have his corpse trans- 
mitted to Lexington, Kentucky, for sepulture. Let 
him sleep with the dead of that city, in and near 
which his home has been for more than half a cen- 
tury. For the people of Lexington, the living and 
the dead, he manifested, by the statement made to 
me, a pure and holy sympathy, and a desire to 
cleave unto them, as strong as that which -bound 
Ruth to Naomi. It was his anxious wish to return 
to them before he died, and to realize what the 
daughter of Moab so strongly felt and beautifully 
expressed: "Thy people shall be my people, and 
thy God my God. Where thou diest will I die, and 
there will I be buried." 

It is fit that the tomb of Henry Clay should be in 
the city of Lexington. In our Revolution, liberty's 
first libation-blood was poured out in a town of that 
name in Massachusetts. On hearing it, the pioneers 



«■ 



i 



L6 

of Kentucky consecrated the name, and applied it 
to ilif place where Mr. Clat desired to be buried. 
The associations connected with the name harmonize 
with his character; and the monument erected to 
his memory al the Bpot selected by him will be visited 
by the votaries of genius and liberty with that 
reverence which is inspired at the tomb of Wash- 
ington. Upon that monument let his epitaph be 
engraved. 

Mr. President, I have availed myself of Doctor 
Johnson's paraphrase of the epitaph on Thomas 
Banmer, with a few alterations and additions, to 
express in borrowed verse my admiration for the 
life and character of Mr. CLAY, and with this heart- 
tribute to the memory of my illustrious colleague I 
conclude my remarks: 



Born when Freedom her stripes and stars unfurl'd, 
When Revolution shook the startled world — 
Beroes and Bages taught his brilliant mind 
To know and love the rights of all mankind. 
'•In life's first bloom his public toils began, 
At onoe commenced tin- Senator and man: 
In business dext'rous, weighty in del 
Near fifty years he labour'd for the State. 
In every speech persuasive wisdom flow'd, 
In every aol refulgent virtue glow'dj 
Buspended faction ceased from rage and Btrife, 
To hear his eloquence and praise his life. 
i:. rit fixed the Members 1 ohoioe, 

Who hail'd him Speaker with nnited voire." 
II i tents ripening with advancing years — 

Hi- \\i- lom growing with hw public cures — 

\ chosen enToy, war 1 ! dark horrors cease, 
and tidi - of earn ige turn to Btreams of pea< 



m 
17 

Conflicting principles, internal strife, 
Tariff and slavery, disunion rife, 
All are compromised by his great hand, 
And beams of joy illuminate the land. 
Patriot, Christian, Husband, Father, Friend, 
Thy work of life achieved a glorious end ! 

I offer the following resolutions : — 

Resolved, That a committee of six be appointed by the 
President of the Senate, to take order for superintending 
the funeral of Henry Clay, late a member of this body, 
which will take place to-morrow at twelve o'clock, M., and 
that the Senate will attend the same. 

Resolved, That the members of the Senate, from a sincere 
desire of showing every mark of respect to the memory of 
the deceased, will go into mourning for one month by the 
usual mode of wearing crape on the left arm. 

Resolved, As a further mark of respect entertained by the 
Senate for the memory of Henry Clay, and his long and 
distinguished services to his country, that his remains, in 
pursuance of the known wishes of his family, be removed to 
the place of sepulture selected by himself at Lexington, in 
Kentucky, in charge of the Sergeant at Arms, and attended 
by a committee of six Senators, to be appointed by the 
President of the Senate, who shall have full power to carry 
this resolution into effect. 

Mr. Cass. 

Mr. President : Again has an impressive warn- 
ing come to teach us, that in the midst of life we 
are in death. The ordinary labours of this Hall are 
suspended, and its contentions hushed, before the 

2 

ft ft 



18 

power of Him, who Bays to the Btorm of human 
passion, as He Baid of old to the waves of Galilee, 
Peace, be still. The lessons of His providence, 
severe as they may be, often become merciful dispen- 
sations, like that which is now spreading sorrow 
through the land, and which is reminding us that we 
have higher duties to fulfil, and graver responsibili- 
ties to encounter, than those that meet us here, when 
we lay our hands upon His holy word, and invoke 
His holy name, promising to be faithful to that Con- 
stitution, which He gave us in His mercy, and will 
withdraw only in the hour of our blindness and dis- 
obedience, and of His own wrath. 

Another great man has fallen in our land, ripe in- 

1 in years and in honours, nut never dearer to the 

American people than when called from the theatre 

of his services and renown to that final bar where 

the lofty and the lowly must all meet at last. 

I do not rise, upon this mournful occasion, to in- 
dulge in the language of panegyric. M\ regard for 
the memory of the dead, and for the obligations of 
the living, would equally rebuke such a course. 
The severity of truth is. at once, our propel' duty and 
our best consolation. Born during the revolution- 
ary Struggle, our deceased associate was one of the 

few remaining public men who connect the present 
generation with the actors in the trying Bcenes of that 

eventful period, and whose names and deeds will soon 



19 

be known only in the history of their country. He 
was another illustration, and a noble one, too, of the 
glorious equality of our institutions, which freely offer 
all their rewards to all who justly seek them; for he 
was the architect of his own fortune, having made 
his way in life by self-exertion ; and he was an early 
adventurer in the great forest of the West, then a 
world of primitive vegetation, but now the abode of 
intelligence and religion, of prosperity and civiliza- 
tion. But he possessed that intellectual superiority 
which overcomes surrounding obstacles, and which 
local seclusion cannot long withhold from general 
knowledge and appreciation. 

It is almost half a century since he passed through 
Chillicothe, then the seat of government of Ohio, 
where I was a member of the Legislature, on his 
way to take his place in this very body, which is 
now listening to this reminiscence, and to a feeble 
tribute .of regard from one who then saw him for the 
first time, but who can never forget the impression 
he produced by the charms of his conversation, the 
frankness of his manner, and the high qualities with 
which he was endowed. Since then he has belonged 
to his country, and has taken a part, and a promi- 
nent part, both in peace and war, in all the great 
questions affecting her interest and her honour ; and 
though it has been my fortune often to differ from 
him, yet I believe he was as pure a patriot as ever 



«■ 



20 

participated in the councils of a nation, anxious for 
the public good, and seeking to promote it, during all 
the vicissitudes of a long and eventful life. That he 
exercised a powerful influence, within the Bphere of 
his action, through the whole country, indeed, we all 
feel and know; and we know, too, the eminent endow- 
ments to which he owed this high distinction. Frank 
and fearless in the expression of his opinion, and in 
the performance of his duties, with rare powers of 
eloquence, which never failed to rivet the attention 
of his auditory, and which always commanded ad- 
miration, even when they did not carry conviction 
— prompt in decision, and firm in action, and with a 
vigorous intellect, trained in the contests of a stir- 
ring life, and strengthened by enlarged experience 
and observation, joined withal to an ardent love of 
country, and to great purity of purpose, — these were 
the elements of his power and success; and we dwell 
upon them with mournful gratification now. when 
we shall soon follow him to the cold and silent tomb, 
where we shall commit "earth to earth, ashes to 
ashes, dust to dust." but with the Messed conviction 

of the truth of that Divine revelation which teaches 

us that there is life and hope beyond the narrow 
house, where we shall leave him alone to the 

mercy of his ( '.oil and ours. 

He has passed beyond the reach of human praise 

or censure; hut tic- judgmenl of his contemporaries 



21 

has preceded and pronounced the judgment of his- 
tory, and his name and fame will shed lustre upon 
his country, and will be proudly cherished in the 
hearts of his countrymen for long ages to come. Yes, 
they will be cherished and freshly remembered, when 
these marble columns, that surround us, so often the 
witnesses of his triumph — but in a few brief hours, 
when his mortal frame, despoiled of the immortal 
spirit, shall rest under this dome for the last time, 
to become the witnesses of his defeat in that final 
contest, where the mightiest fall before the great de- 
stroyer — when these marble columns shall them- 
selves have fallen, like all the works of man, 
leaving their broken fragments to tell the story of 
former magnificence, amid the very ruins which 
announce decay and desolation. 

I was often with him during his last illness, when 
the world and the things of the world were fast fad- 
ing away before him. He knew that the silver cord 
was almost loosened, and that the golden bowl was 
breaking at the fountain ; but he was resigned to the 
will of Providence, feeling that He who gave has the 
right to take away, in His own good time and man- 
ner. After his duty to his Creator, and his anxiety 
for his family, his first care was for his country, and 
his first wish for the preservation and perpetuation of 
the Constitution and the Union — dear to him in the 
hour of death, as they had ever been in the vigour of 



■# 



no 

life. Of thai Constitution and Union, whose de- 
fence in the lasl and greatest crisis of their peril, had 
called forth all his energies, and stimulated th< 
memorable and powerful exertions, which he who 
witnessed can never forget, and which no doubt 
hastened the final catastrophe a nation now deplon 
with a sincerity and unanimity, not less honourable to 
themselves, than to the memory of the object of their 
affections. And when we shall enter that narrow 
valley, through which he has passed before us, and 

which leads to the jud-ineiit-seat of God, may we be 
able to say. through faith in his Son. our Saviour, 
and in the beautiful Language of the hymn of the 
dying Christian — dying, but ever living, and trium- 
phant — 

*• The world recedes, it disappears — 
[leaven opens <m my eyes! my ears 

Witli sounds seraphic ring ; 
Lend, lend your wings! 1 mount — 1 fly! 
Oh, Grave ! « here is thy \ i< 

oh, Death ! where is thy stic 

"Let medic the death of the righteous, and let 

my last hour he like his." 
Mi-. Hi NTIK. 

Mr. President : We have heard, with deep sen- 
sibility, wh.it has jus! fallen from the Senators who 
have preceded mc. We have heard, sir, the voice 

of Kentucky — and, upon this occasion, she had a 



23 

right to speak — in mingled accents of pride and 
sorrow; for it has rarely fallen to the lot of any 
State to lament the loss of such a son. But Vir- 
ginia, too, is entitled to her place in this procession ; 
for she cannot be supposed to be unmindful of the 
tie which bound her to the dead. When the earth 
opens to receive the mortal part which she gave to 
man, it is then that affection is eager to bury in its 
bosom every recollection but those of love and kind- 
ness. And, sir, when the last sensible tie is about 
to be severed, it is then that we look with anxious 
interest to the deeds of the life, and to the emana- 
tions of the heart and the mind, for those more 
enduring monuments which are the creations of an 
immortal nature. 

In this instance, we can be at no loss for these. 
This land, sir, is full of the monuments of his 
genius. His memory is as imperishable as Ameri- 
can history itself, for he was one of those who made 
it. Sir, he belonged to that marked class who are 
the men of their century ; for it was his rare good 
fortune not only to have been endowed with the 
capacity to do great things, but to have enjoyed the 
opportunities of achieving them. I know, sir, it has 
been said and deplored, that he wanted some of the 
advantages of an early education; but it, perhaps, 
has not been remembered that, in many respects, he 
enjoyed such opportunities for mental training as 



24 
can rarelv fall to the lo1 of num. He bad oot a 

* 

chance to learn as much from books, but he had 
such opportunities of learning from men as i'-w have 
ever enjoyed. Sir, it is to be remembered that he 
was reared at a time when there was a state of 
society, in the commonwealth which gave him birth. 
such as has never been seen there before nor since. 
It was his early privilege to see how justice was 
administered by a Pendleton and a Wythe, with the 
last of whom lie was in the daily habit of familiar 
intercourse. He had constant opportunities to ob- 
serve how forensic questions were managed by a 
Marshal] and a Wickham. He was old enough, too, 
t<. have heard and to have appreciated the eloquence 
of a Patrick I hairy, and of George Keith Taylor. 
In sheit. sir. he lived in a society in which the 
examples of a Jefferson, and a Madison, and a Mon- 
roe were living influences, and on which the Betting 
sun of a Washington cast the mild effulgence of its 
departing rays. 

lie was trained. too, as has been well said by the 

Senator from Michigan, [Mr. Cass,] at a period 
when the recent revolutionary Btruggle had given a 
more elevated tone to patriotism, and imparted a 
higher cast to public feeling and to public character. 
Such lessons were worth, perhaps, more to him than 
the whole encyclopedia of scholastic learning. Not 
only were the circumstances of his early training 



25 

favourable to the development of his genius, but the 
theatre upon which he was thrown, was eminently 
propitious for its exercise. - The circumstances of 
the early settlement of Kentucky, the generous, 
daring, and reckless character of the people — all 
fitted it to be the theatre for the display of those 
commanding qualities of heart and mind, which he 
so eminently possessed. There can be little doubt 
but that those people and their chosen leader exer- 
cised a mutual influence upon each other ; and no 
one can be surprised that with his brave spirit and 
commanding eloquence, and fascinating address, he 
should have led not only there but elsewhere. 

I did not know him, Mr. President, as you did, 
in the freshness of his prime, or in the full maturity 
of his manhood. I did not hear him, sir, as you 
have heard him, when his voice roused the spirit 
of his countrymen for war — when he cheered the 
drooping, when he rallied the doubting through all 
the vicissitudes of a long and doubtful contest. I 
have never seen him, sir, when, from the height of 
the chair, he ruled the House of Representatives by 
the energy of his will, or when upon the level of the 
floor he exercised a control almost as absolute, by 
the mastery of his intellect. When I first knew 
him, his sun had a little passed its zenith. The 
effacing hand of time had just begun to touch the 
lineaments of his manhood. But yet, sir, I saw 



— m 



26 

enough of him to be able to realize what he might 
have been in the prime of his strength, and in the 
full vigour of his maturity* I Baw him, but, as you 
did, when he led the "opposition" during the ad- 
ministration of Mr. Van Buren. I had daily oppor- 
tunities of witnessing the exhibition of his powers 
during the extra session under Mr. Tyler's adminis- 
tration. And I saw. as we all saw. in a recent con- 
test, the exhibition of power on his part, which was 
most marvellous in one of his years. 

Mr. President, he may not have had as much 
of analytic skill as some others, in dissecting a BUD- 
ject. It may be, perhaps, that he did not seek to 
lo.»k quite so far ahead as some who have been most 
distinguished lor political forecast. But it may he 
truly said of Mr. Clay, that he was no exaggerator. 
He looked at events through neither end of the 
telescope, hut surveyed them with the natural and 
the naked eye. He had the capacity of seeing 
things as th. ; people saw them, and of feeling things 
as the pc.pl." felt them. He had. sir, beyond any 
other man whom 1 have ever seen, the true mes- 
meric touch of the orator — the rare art of trans- 
ferrin,-' his impulses to others. Thoughts, feeling, 
.•motions, came from tin' ready mould of his -cuius, 
radiant and glowing, and communicated their own 

warmth to every heart which received them. His. 
too. was the power of wielding tic higher and 



■ * 



intenser forms of passion with a majesty and an 
ease, which none but the great masters of the 
human heart can ever employ. It was his rare 
good fortune to have been one of those who form, 
as it were, a sensible link, a living tradition which 
connects one age with another, and through which 
one generation speaks its thoughts and feelings, and 
appeals to another. And, unfortunate is it for a 
country, when it ceases to possess such men, for it is 
to them that we chiefly owe the capacity to maintain 
the unity of the great I^pos of human history, and 
preserve the consistency of political action. 

Sir, it may be said that the grave is still new-made 
which covers the mortal remains of one of those 
great men who have been taken from our midst, and 
the earth is soon to open to receive another. I 
know not whether it can be said to be a matter of 
lamentation, so far as the dead are concerned, that 
the thread of this life has been clipped when once it 
had been fully spun. They escape the infirmities 
of age, and they leave an imperishable name behind 
them. The loss, sir, is not theirs, but ours; and a 
loss the more to be lamented that we see none to 
fill the places thus made vacant on the stage of 
public affairs. But it may be well for us, who have 
much more cause to mourn and to lament such 
deaths, to pause amidst the business of life for the 
purpose of contemplating the spectacle before us, 



28 

and of drawing the moral from the passing event. 
It is when death seizes for its victims those who u 
by "a head and shoulders, taller than all the rest," 
that we feel most deeply the uncertainty of human 

all-iir.-. ami that "the glories of our mortal state are 
shadows, not substantial thin- It is, sir, in such 
instances as the present that we can best study by 
the light <>f example the true objects of life, and the 
wisest ends of human pursuit. 

Mr. Hale. 

Mr. President: I hope I shall not be considered 
obtrusive, it' on this occasion for a brief moment, I 

mingle my humble voice with those that, with an 
ability that 1 shall neither attempt nor hope to 
equal, have sought to do justice to the worth and 
memory of the deceased, and at the same time ap- 
propriately to minister to the sympathies and sor- 
rows of a stricken people. Sir. it is the teaching of 
inspiration that "no man liveth and no man dieth 
unto himself." 

There is a Lesson taught no less in the death than 
in the life of every man — eminently so in the case 
of one who has filled a Large spare and occupied a 
distinguished position in the thoughts and regard of 
his fellow-men. Particularly instructive al tin- time 

is the event which we QOW deplore, although the 

circumstances attending bis decease are such as are 
calculated to assuage rather than aggravate the grief 



29 

which it must necessarily cause. His time had fully 
come. The three score and ten marking the ordi- 
nary period of human life had for some years been 
passed, and, full of years and of honours, he has 
gone to his rest. And now, when the nation is mar- 
shalling itself for the contest which is to decide " who 
shall be greatest," as if to chasten our ambition, to 
restrain and subdue the violence of passion, to mode- 
rate our desires and elevate our hopes, we have the 
spectacle of one who, by the force of his intellect 
and the energy of his own purpose, had achieved a 
reputation which the highest official honours of the 
Republic might have illustrated, but could not have 
enhanced, laid low in death — as if, at the very out- 
set of this political contest, on which the nation is 
now entering, to teach the ambitious and aspiring 
the vanity of human pursuit and end of earthly 
honour. But, sir, I do not intend to dwell on that 
moral which is taught by the silent lips and closed 
eye of the illustrious dead, with a force such as no 
man ever spoke with ; but I shall leave the event, 
with its silent and mute eloquence, to impress its 
own appropriate teachings on the heart. 

In the long and eventful life of Mr. Clay, in the 
various positions which he occupied, in the many 
posts of public duty which he filled, in the many 
exhibitions which his history affords of untiring 
energy, of unsurpassed eloquence, and of devoted 
patriotism, it would be strange indeed if different 



■• 



30 

minds, as they dwell upon the subject, were all to 
select the Bame incidenta of his life as pre-eminently 
calculated to challenge admiration and respect. 

Sir, my admiration — aye, my affection for .Mr. ( 'lay 
— was won and secured man\ years Since, even in 
my school-boy days — when his voice of counsel, en- 
couragement, and sympathy was heard in the other 
Hall of this Capitol, in behalf of the struggling colo- 
nies of the southern portion of this continent, who, 
in pursuit of their inalienable rights, in imitation of 
our own forefathers, had unfurled the banner of 
liberty, and, regardless of consequences, had gal- 
lantly rushed into that contest where "life is lost, 
or freedom won." Ami again, sir, when Greece, 
rich in the memories of the past, awoke from the 

slumber of ages of oppression and centuries of shame, 
and resolved 

" To call her virtues back, and conquer time and lute" — 
there, over the plains of that classic land, above the 
din of battle and the clash of arms, mingling with 
the shouts of the victors and the groans of the van- 
finished, were heard the thrilling and Btirring notes 
of that same eloquence, excited by a sympathy 
which knew no bounds, wide as the world, pleading 
the cause of Grecian liberty before the American 
Congress, as if to pay back to Greece the debt which 

every patriot and orator fell was her due. Sir. in 

the long and honourable career of the deceased, 

there are many events and circumstances upon 



31 

which his friends and posterity will dwell with 
satisfaction and pride, but none which will preserve 
his memory with more unfading lustre to future 
ages than the course he pursued in the Spanish- 
American and Greek revolutions. 

Mr. Clemens. 

Mr. President: I should not have thought it 
necessary to add any thing to what has already been 
said, but for a request preferred by some of the 
friends of the deceased. I should have been con- 
tent to mourn him in silence, and left it to other 
tongues to pronounce his eulogy. What I have now 
to say shall be brief — very brief. 

Mr. President, it is now less than three short years 
ago since I first entered this body. At that period 
it numbered among its members many of the most 
illustrious statesmen this Republic has ever produced, 
or the world has ever known. Of the livimr, it is 
not my purpose to speak; but in that brief period, 
death has been busy here ; and, as if to mark the 
feebleness of human things, his arrows have been 
aimed at the highest, the mightiest of us all. First, 
died Calhoun. And well, sir, do I remember the 
deep feeling evinced on that occasion by him whose 
death has been announced here to-day, when he said : 
" I was his senior in years — in nothing else. In the 
course of nature I ought to have preceded him. It 



#- 



32 



beeo decreed otherwise; but I know that I Bhall 
linger here only a Bhort time, and shall booh follow 
him." It wa- genius mourning over his younger 
brother, and too surely predicting his own approach- 
ing end. 

He, too, is now gone from among us. and left none 
like him behind. That voice, whose every tone was 
music, is hushed and still. That clear, bright eye is 
dim and lustreless, and that breast, where grew and 
nourished every quality "which could adorn and dig- 
nify our nature, is cold as the clod that soon must 
cover it. A few hours have wrought a mighty 
change — a change for which a lingering illness had. 
indeed, in some degree, prepared us; but which, ne- 
vertheless, will still fall upon the nation with crush- 
ing force. Many a sorrowing heart is now asking, 
as I did yesterday, when I heard the first sound of 
the funeral bell — 



11 And i- i> -the pare of the purest, 

The hand that upheld our bright banner, the surest, 

I- 1 1 • ■ gone from out struggles an 
But yesterday lending a people new life, 
Cold, mute, in the ooffin to-day." 



.Mr. President, this is an occasion when eulogy 
must fail to perform iis ollice. The long life which 
is now ended is a history of glorious deeds too 
mighty lor the tongue of praise. It is in the hearts 
of his countrymen that his best epitaph must be 



•) 

33 



written. It is in the admiration of a world that his 
renown must be recorded. In that deep love of 
country which distinguished every period of his life, 
he may not have been unrivalled. In loftiness of 
intellect, he was not without his peers. The skill 
with which he touched every chord of the human 
heart may have been equalled. The iron will, the 
unbending firmness, the fearless courage, which 
marked his character, may have been shared by 
others. But where shall we go to find all these qua- 
lities united, concentrated, blended into one brilliant 
whole, and shedding a lustre upon one single head, 
which does not dazzle the beholder only because it 
attracts his love and demands his worship ? 

I scarcely know, sir, how far it may be allowable, 
upon an occasion like this, to refer to party strug- 
gles which have left wounds not yet entirely healed. 
I will venture, however, to suggest, that it should 
be a source of consolation to his friends that he lived 
long enough to see the full accomplishment of the last 
great work of his life, and to witness the total dis- 
appearance of that sectional tempest which threat- 
ened to whelm the Republic in ruins. Both the 
great parties of the country have agreed to stand 
upon the platform which he erected, and both of 
them have solemnly pledged themselves to maintain 
unimpaired the work of his hands. I doubt not 
the knowledge of this cheered him in his dying 



». 



•' 



I 



moments, and helped to Bteal away the pangs of 
dissolution. 

Mr. President, it' I knew any thing more that I 

could Bay, I would gladly utter it. To me, he was 
something more than kind, and I am called upon to 
mingle a private with the public grief. I wish that 

I could do .something to add to his lame. Blithe 
built for himself a monument of immortality, and 
Left to his friends no task but that of soothing their 
own sorrow for his loss. We pay to him the tribute 
of our tears. More we have no power to bestow. 
Patriotism, honour, genius, courage, have all come to 
Btrew their garlands about his tomb; and well they 
may, for he was the peer of them all. 

Mr. Cooper. 

Mr. I'kksidkxt: It is not always by words that 
the living pay to the dead the sinceivst and most 
eloquent tribute. The tears of a nation, flowing 
spontaneously over the grave of a public benefactor, 
is a more eloquent testimonial of his worth and of 
the affection and veneration of his countrymen, than 
the most highly-wroughl eulogium of the most gifted 
tongue. The heart is not necessarily the fountain 
of words, hut it is always the source of tears, whether 
of joy, gratitude, or grief But sincere, truthful, 
and eloquent, as they are, they Leave np permanent 
record of the virtues and greatness of him on whose 



-* 



35 

tomb they are shed. As the dews of heaven falling 
at night are absorbed by the earth, or dried up by 
the morning sun, so the tears of a people, shed for 
their benefactor, disappear without leaving a trace to 
tell to future generations of the services, sacrifices, 
and virtues of him to whose memory they were a 
grateful tribute. But as homage paid to virtue is an 
incentive to it, it is right that the memory of the 
good, the great, and noble of the earth should be 
preserved and honoured. 

The ambition, Mr. President, of the truly great, 
is more the hope of living in the memory and esti- 
mation of future ages than of possessing power in 
their own. It is this hope that stimulates them to 
perseverance; that enables them to encounter disap- 
pointment, ingratitude, and neglect, and to press on 
through toils, privations, and perils to the end. It 
was not the hope of discovering a world, over which 
he should himself exercise dominion, that sustained 
Columbus in all his trials. It was not for this 
he braved danger, disappointment, poverty, and re- 
proach. It was not for this he subdued his native 
pride, wandered from kingdom to kingdom, kneeling 
at the feet of princes, a suppliant for means to prose- 
cute his sublime enterprise. It was not for this, after 
having at last secured the patronage of Isabella, 
that he put off in his crazy and ill-appointed fleet 
into unknown seas, to struggle with storms and tem- 



«■ 



:; t ; 

pots, and the rage of a mutinous crew. It was 
another and oobler kind of ambition that stimulated 
him to contend with terror, superstition, and despair, 
and to press forward on his perilous course, when t he 
needle in his compass. Losing its polarity, seemed to 
unite with the fury of the elements and the insub- 
ordination of his crew in turning him back from his 
perilous but glorious undertaking. It was the hope 
which was realized at last, when his ungrateful 
country was compelled to inscribe, as an epitaph on 
his tomb — 

"COLUMBUS ll \s GIVEN A NEW WORLD TO THE KING- 
DOMS OF CASTILE A\l> LEON," 

that enabled him, at first, to brave so many disap- 
pointments, and at last, to conquer the multitude of 
perils that beset his pathway on thedeep. This, sir, 
is the ambition of the truly great — not to achieve 
present fame, but future immortality. This being 
the case, it is befitting here to-day, to add to the life 
of 1 1i;\i;y < 'i. ay the record of his death, signalized as 
it is bv a nation's Gratitude and grief. It is right 

that posterity should learn from us. the contemporaries 
of the illustrious deceased, that his virtues and ser- 
vices were appreciated by his country, ami acknow- 
ledged by the tears of his countrymen poured out 
upon his grave. 



' - - . i , — m 

37 

The career of Henry Clay was a wonderful one. 
And what an illustration of the excellence of our 
institutions would a retrospect of his life afford ! 
Born in an humble station, without any of the 
adventitious aids of fortune by which the obstruc- 
tions on the road to fame are smoothed, he rose not 
only to the most exalted eminence of position, but 
likewise to the highest place in the affections of his 
countrymen. Taking into view the disadvantages 
of his early position, disadvantages against which 
he had always to contend, his career is without a 
parallel in the history of great men. To have seen 
him a youth, without friends or fortune, and with 
but a scanty education, who would have ventured 
to predict for him a course so brilliant and benefi- 
cent, and a fame so well deserved and enduring? 
Like the pine, which sometimes springs up amidst 
the rocks on the mountain side, with scarce a 
crevice in which to fix its roots, or soil to nourish 
them, but which, nevertheless, overtops all the 
trees of the surrounding forest, Henry Clay, by 
his own inherent, self-sustaining energy and genius, 
rose to an altitude of fame almost unequalled in the 
age in which he lived. As an orator, legislator, and 
statesman, he had no superior. All his faculties 
were remarkable, and in remarkable combination. 
Possessed of a brilliant genius and fertile imagina- 
tion, his judgment was sound, discriminating, and 



m •' 



eminently practical. Of an ardenl and impetuous 
temperament, he was nevertheless pereevering and 
firm of purpose. Frank, bold, and intrepid, he v. 
cautious in providing against the contingencies and 
obstacles which might possibly rise up in the road to 
success. Generous, liberal, and entertaining broad 
and expanded views of national policy, in his legis- 
lative course lie never transcended the limits of a 
wise economy. 

lint, Mr. President, of all his faculties, that of 
making friends and attaching them to him was the 
mOSl remarkable and extraordinary. In this respect, 
he seemed to possess a sort of fascination, by which 
all who came into his presence were attracted 
towards, and bound to him by ties which neither 
time nor circumstances had power to dissolve or 
weaken. In the admiration of his friends was the 
recognition of the divinity of intellect; in their 
attachment to him a confession of his generous per- 
sonal qualities and social virtues. 

of the public services of Mr. Clay, the present 
occasion affords no room for a sketch more extended 
than that which his respected colleague [Mr. I'miki:- 
\\(mi[)] has presented. It is. however, sufficient to 
Bay, that lor more than foiiy years he has been a 

prominent actor in the drama of American affairs. 
During the late war with England, his voice was 
more potenl than any other in awakening the spirit 



m — Q 

39 

of the country, infusing confidence into the people, 
and rendering available the resources for carrying on 
the contest. In our domestic controversies, threat- 
ening the peace of the country and the integrity of 
the Union, he has always been first to note danger 
as well as to suggest the means of averting it. 
When the waters of the great political deep were 
upheaved by the tempest of discord, and the ark of 
the Union, freighted with the hopes and destinies of 
freedom, tossing about on the raging billows, and 
drifting every moment nearer to the vortex which 
threatened to swallow it up, it was his clarion voice, 
rising above the storm, that admonished the crew 
of impending peril, and counselled the way to 
safety. 

But, Mr. President, devotedly as he loved his 
country, his aspirations were not limited to its 
welfare alone. Wherever freedom had a votary, 
that votary had a friend in Henry Clay ; and in the 
struggle of the Spanish colonies for independence he 
uttered words of encouragement which have become 
the mottos on the banners of freedom in every land. 
But neither the services which he has rendered his 
own country, nor his wishes for the welfare of others, 
nor his genius, nor the affection of friends, could turn 
aside the destroyer. No price could purchase ex- 
emption from the common lot of humanity. Henry 
Clay, the wise, the great, the gifted, had to die; 



■» 



Ill 

ami his history La Bummed up in the biography 
which the Russian poet has prepared for all, kings 

and serfs ; 

* * * * "born, living, 'lying, 
Quitting the .-till shore for the troubled « 
Btruggliug with storm-clouds, over Bhipwreoke flying, 
And casting anchor in the silent grave." 

But though time would not .spare him, there is still 
this of consolation : he died peacefully and happy, 

ripe in renown, full of years and of honours, and 
rich iu the affections of his country. He had. too. 
the unspeakable satisfaction of closing his eyes 
whilst the country he had loved so much and served 
BO well was still in the enjoyment of peace, happine--. 
union, and prosperity — still advancing in all the 
elements of wealth, greatness, and power. 

I know. Mr. President, how unequal I have been 
to the apparently self-imposed task of presenting, in 
an appropriate manner, the merits of the illustrious 
deceased. But if I had remained silent on an occa- 
sion like this, when the hearts of my constituent- 
art' swelling with grief, 1 would have been disowned 

by them. It is for this reason — that of giving 
utterance to their feelings as well as of my own — 

that I have trespassed on the time of the Senate. 
I would that 1 could have spoken litter words; hut. 

such as they are, they were uttered by the tongue 

in response to tin- promptings of the heart. 



41 

Mr. Seward. 

Mr. President : Fifty years ago, Henry Clay of 
Virginia, already adopted by Kentucky, then as 
youthful as himself, entered the service of his 
country, a Representative in the unpretending- 
Legislature of that rising State ; and having thence- 
forward, with ardour and constancy, pursued the 
gradual paths of an aspiring change through Halls 
of Congress, Foreign Courts and Executive Councils, 
he has now, with the cheerfulness of a patriot, and 
the serenity of a Christian, fitly closed his long and 
arduous career, here in the Senate, in the full pre- 
sence of the Republic, looking down upon the scene 
with anxiety and alarm, not merely a Senator like 
one of us who yet remain in the Senate House, but 
filling that character which, though it had no au- 
thority of law and was assigned without suffrage, 
Augustus Caesar nevertheless declared was above 
the title of Emperor, Primus inter lllustres — the 
Prince of the Senate. 

Generals are tried, Mr. President, by examining 
the campaigns they have lost or won, and statesmen 
by reviewing the transactions in which they have 
been en paired. Hamilton w r ould have been unknown 
to us, had there been no constitution to be created ; 
as Brutus would have died in obscurity, had there 
been no Caesar to be slain. 

Colonization, Revolution, and Organization — three 
great acts in the drama of our National Progress — 



42 

had already passed when the Western Patriot ap- 
peared on the public stage. He entered in thai q< 
division of the majestic scenes which was marked 
by an inevitable reaction of political forces, a wild 
strife of factions and ruinous embarrassments in our 
foreign relations. This transition stage is always 
more perilous than any other in the career of na- 
tions, and especially in the career of Republics. It 
proved fatal to the Commonwealth in England. 
Scarcely an}- of the Spanish-American States have 
yet emerged from it; and more than once H lias 
been sadly signalized by the ruin of the Republican 
cause in France. 

The continuous administration of Washington 
and .John Adams had closed under a cloud which 
had thrown a broad, dark shadow over the future; 
the nation was deeply indebted at home and abroad. 
and its credit was prostrate. The Revolutionary 
factions had given place to two inveterate parti' 3, 
divided by a gulf which had been worn by the con- 
flict in which the Constitution was adopted, and 
made broader and deeper by a war of prejudices con- 
cerning the merits .it' the belligerents in the great 
European struggle that then convulsed the civilized 
world. Our extraordinary political system was little 

more than an ingenious theory, not yet practically 
established. 'The union of the States was as yel 
Only one of compact ; for the political, social, and 

commercial necessities to which it was so marvel- 



i f m 

43 

ously adapted, and which, clustering thickly upon 
it, now render it indissoluble, had not then been 
broadly disclosed, nor had the habits of acquiescence 
and the sentiments of loyalty, always slow of growth, 
fully ripened. The bark that had gone to sea, thus 
unfurnished and untried, seemed quite certain to 
founder by reason of its own inherent frailty, even 
if it should escape unharmed in the great conflict of 
nations which acknowledged no claims of justice 
and tolerated no pretensions of neutrality. More- 
over, the territory possessed by the nation was in- 
adequate to commercial exigencies and indispensable 
social expansion; and yet no provision had been 
made for enlargement, nor for extending the political 
system over distant regions, inhabited or otherwise, 
which must inevitably be acquired. Nor could any 
such acquisition be made, without disturbing the 
carefully-adjusted balance of powers among the 
members of the confederacy. 

These difficulties, Mr. President, although they 
grew less with time and by slow degrees, continued 
throughout the whole life of the statesman whose 
obsequies we are celebrating. Be it known, then, 
and I am sure that history will confirm the instruc- 
tion, that Conservatism was the interest of the na- 
tion, and the responsibility of its Rulers, during the 
period in which he flourished. He was ardent, bold, 
generous, and even ambitious ; and yet with a pro- 
found conviction of the true exigencies of the country, 



■ <B 



like Alexander Bamilton, he disciplined himself and 
trained a restless nation, that knew only self-control, 
to the rigorous practice of that often humiliating 
conservatism which its welfare and security in that 

particular crisis bo imperiously demanded. 

It could not happen, sir. to any citizen to have 

acted alone, nor even to have acted always the 
most conspicuous part in a trying pcrio.l bo Long 
protracted. Henry Clay, therefore, shared the re- 
sponsibilities of Government with not only hi* 
proper contemporaries, hut also survivors of the Revo- 
lution, as well as also many who will BUOCeed him- 
self Delicacy forbids the naming of those who retain 
their places here, hut Ave may without impropriety 
recall among his compeers a Senator of vast resourc - 
and inflexible resolve, who has recently withdrawn 
from this Chamber, but 1 trust not alto-ether from 
public life, (Mr. Benton); and another, who. sur- 
passing all his contemporaries within his country, 
and even throughoul the world, in proper eloquence 
of the Forum, now in autumnal years for a second 
times dignifies and adorns the highest seat in the 

Executive Council, (Mr. Webster.) Passing by 

these eminent and Qoble men. the shades of 

Calhoun, John Quincy Adams. Jackson, .Monroe, 
and Jefferson, rise up before us — statesmen whose 

living and local fame has ripened already into his- 
torical and world-wide renown. 

Among geniuses so lofty as these. Benby Clay 



e 

45 

bore a part in regulating the constitutional freedom 
of political debate ; establishing that long-contested 
and most important line which divides the sove- 
reignty of the several States from that of the States 
confederated ; asserting the right of Neutrality, and 
vindicating it by a war against Great Britain, when 
that just but extreme measure became necessary; 
adjusting the terms on which that perilous yet 
honourable contest was brought to a peaceful close ; 
perfecting the Army and the Navy, and the national 
fortifications ; settling the fiscal and financial policy 
of the Government in more than one crisis of appa- 
rently threatened revolution; asserting and calling 
into exercise the powers of the Government for 
making and improving internal communications 
between the States; arousing and encouraging the 
Spanish-American Colonies on this Continent to 
throw off the foreign yoke, and to organize Govern- 
ments on principles congenial to our own, and thus 
creating external bulwarks for our own national 
defence : establishing equal and impartial peace and 
amity with all existing maritime Powers ; and ex- 
tending the constitutional organization of Govern- 
ment over all the vast regions secured in his lifetime 
by purchase or by conquest, whereby the pillars of 
the Republic have been removed from the banks of 
the St. Mary to the borders of the Rio Grande, 
and from the margin of the Mississippi to the Pa- 
cific coast. We may not yet discuss here the wisdom 



■#> 



46 

of the Beveral measures which have thus passed in 
review before us 3 nor of the positions which the de- 
ceased statesman assumed in regard to them, but we 
may without offence dwell upon the comprehensive 
results of them all. 

The Union exists in absolute integrity, and the Re- 
publican system is in complete and triumphant deve- 
lopment. Without having relinquished any pari of 
their individuality, the States have more than doubled 
already, and are increasing in numbers and political 
strength and expansion more rapidly than ever before. 
Without having absorbed any State, or having even 
encroached on any State, the Confederation has 
opened itself so as to embrace all the new members 
who have come, and now with capacity for further and 
indefinite enlargements has become fixed, enduring, 
and" perpetual. Although it was doubted only half 
a century ago whether our political system eould be 
maintained at all, and whether, if maintained, it 
could guarantee the peace and happiness of society, 
it stands now confessed by the world the form of 
Government not only most adapted to Empire, hut 
also most congenial with the constitution of Human 
Nature. 

When we consider that the nation has been con- 
ducted to this haven, not only through stormy seas, 
hut altogether, also, without a course and without 
a star; and when we consider moreover, the sum 
of happiness that lias already been enjoyed by the 



■* 



47 

American People, and still more the influence which 
the great achievement is exerting for the advance- 
ment and melioration of the condition of mankind, 
we see at once that it might have satisfied the high- 
est ambition to have been, no matter how humbly, 
concerned in so great transaction. 

Certainly, sir, no one will assert that Hexry Clay 
in that transaction performed an obscure or even a 
common part. On the contrary, from the day on 
which he entered the public service until that on 
which he passed the gates of death, he was never a 
follower, but always a leader; and he marshalled 
either the party which sustained or that which re- 
sisted every great measure, equally in the Senate 
and among the people. He led where duty 
seemed to him to indicate, reckless whether he 
encountered one President or twenty Presidents, 
whether he was opposed by factions or even by the 
whole people. Hence it has happened, that although 
that people are not yet agreed among themselves on 
the wisdom of all, or perhaps of even any of his 
great measures, yet they are nevertheless unanimous 
in acknowledging that he was at once the greatest, 
the most faithful and the most reliable of their 
statesmen. Here the effort at discriminating praise of 
Henry Clay, in regard to his public policy, must stop 
in this place, even on this sad occasion which awakens 
the ardent liberality of his generous survivors. 

But his personal qualities may be discussed with- 



48 

out apprehension. What were tin- elements of the 
success of thai extraordinary man? You, .sir. knew 
him Longer and better than I, and I would prefer to 
bear von speak of them. He was indeed eloquent — 
all the world knows that. lie held the keys to the 
hearts of his countrymen, and he turned tin/ wards 
within them with a skill attained by no other 
master. 

But eloquence was nevertheless only an instru- 
ment, and one of many that he used. His eonversa- 
tion. his gesture, his very look, was persuasive, 
seductive, irresistible. And his appliance of all 
these was courteous, patient and indefatigable. 
Defeat only inspired him with new resolution. He 
divided opposition by his assiduity of address, while 
he rallied and strengthened his own bands of sup- 
porters by the confidence of success which, feeling 
himself, he easily inspired anion- his followers. His 
affections were high, and pure, and generous, and the 
chiefest among them was that which the great 
Italian poet designated as the charity of native land. 
And in him that charity was an enduring and over- 
powering enthusiasm, and it influenced all his senti- 
ments and conduct, rendering him more impartial 
between con ll ict i ng interests and sections than anv 
other statesman who has lived since the Revolution. 
Thus with very great versatility of talent and the 
most catholic equality of favour, he identified every 
question, whether of domestic administration or 



49 

foreign policy, with his own great name, and so 
became a perpetual Tribune of the people. He 
needed only to pronounce in favour of a measure or 
against it, here, and immediately popular enthu- 
siasm, excited as by a magic wand, was felt, over- 
coming all opposition in the Senate Chamber. 

In this way he wrought a change in our political 
system, that I think was not foreseen by its founders. 
He converted this branch of the Legislature from a 
negative position, or one of equilibrium between the 
Executive and the House of Representatives, into 
the active ruling power of the Republic. Only time 
can disclose whether this great innovation shall be 
beneficent, or even permanent. 

Certainly, sir, the great lights of the Senate have 
set. The obscuration is not less palpable to the 
country than to us, who are left to grope our un- 
certain way here, as in a labyrinth, oppressed with 
self-distrust. The times, too, present new embarrass- 
ments. We are rising to another and a more sub- 
lime stage of natural progress, — that of expanding 
wealth and rapid territorial aggrandizement. Our 
institutions throw a broad shadow across the St. 
Lawrence, and stretching beyond the valley of 
Mexico, reaches even to the plains of Central America; 
while the Sandwich Islands and the shores of China 
recognise its renovating influence. Wherever that 
influence is felt, a desire for protection under those 
institutions is awakened. Expansion seems to be 



«- 



50 

regulated, not by any difficulties of resistance, but 
by the moderation which results from our own in- 
ternal constitution. No one knows how rapidly 

that restraint may give way. Who can tell how 
far or how i'ast it ought to yield? Commerce has 
brought the ancient continents near to US, and 
created necessities for new positions — perhaps con- 
nections or colonies there — and with the trade and 
friendship of the elder nations their conflicts and 
collisions are brought to our doors and to our hearts. 
Our sympathy kindles, our indifference extinguishes 
the lire of freedom in foreign lands. Before we shall 
he fully conscious that a change is going on in Eu- 
rope, we may find ourselves once more divided by 
that eternal line of separation that leaves on the one 
side those of our citizens who obey the impulse- of 
sympathy, while on the other are found those who 
submit only to the counsels of prudence. Even 
prudence will soon be required to decide whether 
distant regions, East and West, shall come under our 
own protection, or be left to aggrandize a rapidly 
spreading and hostile domain of despotism. 

Sir, who among us is equal to these mighty 
questions? I fear there is no one. Neverthel 

the example of lli:.\i;v Cl.AV remains lor our in- 
struction. Mis -cuius has passed to the realms of 
light, hut his virtues still live here for our emulation. 
With them there will remain also the protection and 
favour of the Most High, if by the practice of justice 



-B* 



■® 



51 

and the maintenance of freedom we shall deserve it. 
Let, then, the bier pass on. With sorrow, but not 
without hope, we will follow the revered form that 
it bears to its final resting place; and then, when 
that grave opens at our feet to receive such an in- 
estimable treasure, we will invoke the God of our 
fathers to send us new guides, like him that is now 
withdrawn, and give us wisdom to obey their in- 
structions. 

Mr. Jones, of Iowa. 

Mr. President : Of the vast number who mourn the 
departure of the great man whose voice has so often 
been heard in this Hall, I have peculiar cause to 
regret that dispensation which has removed him 
from among us. He was the guardian and director 
of my collegiate days; four of his sons were my 
collegemates and my warm friends. My intercourse 
with the father was that of a youth and a friendly 
adviser. I shall never cease to feel grateful to him 
— to his now heart-stricken and bereaved widow 
and children, for their many kindnesses to me during 
four or five years of my life. I had the pleasure of 
renewing my acquaintance with him, first, as a dele- 
gate in Congress, while he was a member of this 
body from 1835 to 1839, and again in 1848, as a 
member of this branch of Congress; and during the 
whole of which period, some eight years, none but 
the most kindly feeling existed between us. 



ft— 



52 



Aja an humble and unimportant Senator, it was 
my fortune to cooperate with him throughout the 
whole of the exciting session of 1849—50 — the labour 
and excitemenl of which is said to have precipitated 
his decease. That cooperation did not end with the 
accordant vote on this lloor, but, in consequence of 
the unyielding opposition to the series of measures 
known as the "compromise," extended to many 
private meetings held by its friends, at all of which 
Mr. Clay was present. And whether in public or 
private life, he everywhere continued to inspire me 
with the most exalted estimate of his patriotism and 
statesmanship. Never shall I forget the many ardent 
appeals he mado to Senators, in and out of the Se- 
nate, in favour of the settlement of our then unhappy 
sectional differences. 

Immediately after the close of that memorable 
session of Congress, during which the nation beheld 
his great and almost superhuman efforts upon this 
floor to sustain the wise counsels of the « Father of 
his Country," I accompanied him home to Ashland, 
at his invitation, to revisit the place where my 
happiest days had been spent, with the friends who 
there continued to reside. During that, to me. most 
agreeable and instructive journey, in many conversa- 
tions he evinced the utmost solicitude for the welfare 
and honour of the Republic, all tending to show that 
he believed the happiness of the people and the 
cause of liberty throughout the world depended upon 



53 

the continuance of our glorious Union, and the avoid- 
ance of those sectional dissensions which could but 
alienate the affections of one portion of the people 
from another. With the sincerity and fervour of 
a true patriot, he warned his companions in that 
journey to withhold all aid from men who laboured, 
and from every cause which tended, to sow the seeds 
of disunion in the land; and to oppose such, he de- 
clared himself willing to forego all the ties and asso- 
ciations of mere party. 

At a subsequent period, sir, this friend of my 
youth, at- my earnest and repeated entreaties, con- 
sented to take a sea voyage from New York to 
Havana. He remained at the latter place a fort- 
night, and then returned by New Orleans to Ash- 
land. That excursion by sea, he assured me, con- 
tributed much to relieve him from the sufferings 
occasioned by the disease which has just terminated 
his eventful and glorious life. Would to Heaven 
that he could have been persuaded to abandon his 
duties as a Senator, and to have remained during 
the past winter and spring upon that Island of Cuba ! 
The country would not now, perhaps, have been 
called to mourn his loss. 

In some matters of policy connected with the ad- 
ministration of our general government, I have 
disagreed with him, yet the purity and sincerity of 
his motives I never doubted ; and as a true lover of 
his country, as an honourable and honest man, I trust 



■a 



54 

his example will be reverenced and followed by the 
men of this, and of succeeding generations. 

Mr. Brooks. 

Mr. President: As an ardent, personal admirer 
and political friend of the distinguished dead, I 
claim the privilege of adding my humble tribute of 

respect to his memory, and of joining in the general 
expression of sorrow that has gone forth from this 
Chamber. Death, at all times, is an instructive 
monitor as well as a mournful messenger; but when 
his fatal shaft hath stricken down the great in intel- 
lecl and renown, how doubly impressive the lesson 
that it 1 uings home to the heart that the grave is 
the common lot of all — the great leveller of all earthly 
distinctions! But at the same time we are taught 
that in one sense the good and great can never •!';«■ ; 
for the memory of their virtues and their bright ex- 
ample will live through all coining time in an immor- 
tality that hlooms beyond the grave. The consola- 
tion of this thought may calm our sorrow; and, in the 
language of one of our own poets, it may he asked : 

" Why weep ye, then, for him, who having run 
The bound of man's appointed years, at last, 
Life's lilessinps nil enjoyed, life's labours done, 

Serenely t" his final rest has pass'd ; 
While the soft memory of his virtues yet 

Lingers, like twilight hues when the bright Bun has set?" 

It will 1m; doing no injustice, sir. to the living or 
the dead to say, that no better specimen of the true 



«e 



00 



American character can be found in our history than 
that of Mr. Clay. With no adventitious advantages 
of birth or fortune, he won his way by the efforts of 
his own srenius to the highest distinction and honour. 
Ardently attached to the principles of civil and reli- 
gious liberty, patriotism was with him both a pas- 
sion and a sentiment — a passion that gave energy 
to his ambition, and a sentiment that pervaded all 
his thoughts and actions, concentrating them upon 
his country as the idol of his heart. The bold and 
manly frankness in the expression of his opinions 
which always characterized him, has often been the 
subject of remark ; and in all his victories it may be 
truly said he never " stooped to conquer." In his 
long and brilliant political career, personal considera- 
tions never for a single instant caused him to swerve 
from the strict line of duty, and none have ever 
doubted his deep sincerity in that memorable ex- 
pression to Mr. Preston, " Sir, I had rather be right 
than be President." 

This is not the time nor occasion, sir, to enter 
into a detail of the public services of Mr. Clay, in- 
terwoven as they are with the history of the country 
for half a century ; but I cannot refrain from advert- 
ing to the last crowning act of his glorious life — his 
great effort in the Thirty-first Congress for the pre- 
servation of the peace and integrity of this great 
Republic, as it was this effort that shattered his 
bodily strength, and hastened the consummation of 



■'« 



56 

death. The Union of the States, as being essential 
to our prosperity and happiness, was the paramount 
proposition in his political creed, and the slightest 
symptom of danger to its perpetuity filled him with 
alarm, and called forth all the energies of his body 
and mind. In his earlier life lie had met this 
danger and overcome it. In the conflict of contend- 
ing factions it again appeared; and coming forth 
from the repose of private life, to which age and in- 
firmity had carried him, with unabated strength of 
intellect, he again entered upon the arena of political 
strife, and again success crowned his efforts, and 
I ace and harmony were restored to a distracted 
people. But unequal to the mighty struggle, his 
bodily strength sank beneath it, and he retired from 
the field of his glory to yield up his life as a holy 
sacrifice to his beloved country. It has well been 
said that peace has its victories as well as war; and 
how bright upon the page of history will be the 
record of this great victory of intellect, of reason, 
and of moral suasion, over the spirit of discord and 
sectional animosities ! 

We this day, Mr. President, commit his memory 
to the regard and affection of his admiring country- 
men. It is a consolation to them and to US to know- 
that he died iii full possession of his glorious intel- 
lect, and. what is better, in the enjoyment of that 
"peace which the world can neither give nor take 
away." Hi* sank to rest as the full-orbed king of 



57 

daj*, unshorn of a single beam, or rather like the 
planet of morning, his brightness was but eclipsed 
by the opening to him of a more full and perfect 
day— 

" No •waning of fire, no paling of ray, 
But rising, still rising, as passing away. 
Farewell, gallant eagle> thou'rt buried in light — 
God speed thee to heaven, lost star of our night." 

The Resolutions submitted by Mr. Underwood, were tben 
unanimously agreed to. 

Ordered, That the Secretary communicate these Resolu- 
tions to the House of Representatives. 

On motion by Mr. Underwood, 

Resolved, That, as an additional mark of respect to the 
memory of the deceased, the Senate do now adjourn. 



HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 



Wednesday, June 30, 1852. 



The Journal of yesterday having been read, 
A message was received from the Senate, by Asbury 
Dickins, Esq., its Secretary, communicating information of 
the death of Henry Clay, late Senator from the State of 
Kentucky, and the proceedings of the Senate thereon. 
The resolutions of the Senate having been read, 



Mr. Breckinridge then rose and said : 

Mr. Speaker : I rise to perform the melancholy 
duty of announcing to this body the death of Henry 
Clay, late a Senator in Congress from the Com- 
monwealth of Kentucky. 

Mr. Clay expired at his lodgings in this city yes- 
terday morning, at seventeen minutes past eleven 
o'clock, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. His 
noble intellect was unclouded to the last. After pro- 
tracted sufferings, he passed away without pain ; and 

59 



• ® 



GO 

so gently did the spirit leave his frame, that the mo- 
menl of departure was not observed by the friends 
who watched at his bedside. His last hours were 
cli'.. red by the presence of an affectionate son; and 
he died surrounded by friends who, during his long 
illness, had done all that affection could suggest to 
soothe his sufferings. 

Although this sad event has been expected for 
many weeks, the shock it produced, and the innu- 
merable tributes of respect to his memory exhibited 
on every side, and in every form, prove the depth 
of the public sorrow, and the greatness of the 
public loss. 

Imperishably associated as his name has been for 
fifty years with every great event affecting the for- 
tunes of our country, it is difficult to realize that he 
is indeed gone for ever. It is difficult to feel that we 
Bhall see no more his noble form within these walls 
— that we shall hear no more his patriot tones, now 
rousing his countrymen to vindicate their rights 
against a foreign foe, now imploring them to preserve 
concord among themselves. We shall see him no 
mere. The memory and the fruits of his services 
alone remain to us. Amidst the general gloom, the 
Capitol itself looks desolate, as if tin' genius of the 

place had departed. Already the intelligence has 
reached almost every quarter of the Republic, and a 

great people mourn with us, to-day, the death ol 



& 1 — _$ 

61 

their most illustrious citizen. Sympathizing, as we 
do, deeply, with his family and friends, yet private 
affliction is absorbed in the general sorrow. The 
spectacle of a whole community lamenting the loss 
of a great man, is far more touching than any mani- 
festation of private grief. In speaking of a loss 
which is national, I will not attempt to describe the 
universal burst of grief with which Kentucky will 
receive these tidings. The attempt would be vain 
to depict the gloom that will cover her people, when 
they know that the pillar of fire is removed, which 
has guided their footsteps for the life of a genera- 
tion. 

It is known to the country, that from the memo- 
rable session of 1849-50, Mr. Clay's health gradu- 
ally declined. Although several years of his Sena- 
torial term remained, he did not propose to con- 
tinue in the public service longer than the present 
session. He came to AYashington chiefly to defend, 
if it should become necessary, the measures of ad- 
justment, to the adoption of which he so largely 
contributed; but the condition of his health did not 
allow him, at any time, to participate in the discus- 
sions of the Senate. Through the winter, he was 
confined almost wholly to his room, with slight 
changes in his condition, but gradually losing the 
remnant of his strength. Through the long and 
dreary winter, he conversed much and cheerfully 



i 



62 

with his friends, and expressed a deep interest in pub- 
lic affairs. Although he did not expect a restora- 
tion to health, lie cherished the hope that the mild 
Beason of spring would bring to him strength enough 

to return to Ashland, and die in the bosom of his 
family. But, alas! spring, that brings life to all na- 
ture, brought no life nor hope to him. After the 
month of March, his vital powers rapidly wasted, 
and for weeks he lay patiently awaiting the stroke 
of death. But the approach of the destroyer had no 
terrors for him. No clouds overhung his future. 
He met the end with composure, and his pathway 
to the grave was brightened by the immortal hopes 
which spring from the Christian faith. 

Not long before his death, having just returned 
from Kentucky, I bore to him a token of affection 
from his excellent wife. Never can I forget his ap- 
pearance, his manner, or his words. After speaking 
of his family, his friends, and his country, he changed 
the conversation to his own future, and looking on 
me with his line eye undiinmed, and his voice full of 
its original compass and melody, he said, " I am not 
afraid to die, sir. I have hope, faith, and some con- 
fidence. 1 do not think any man can lie entirely 
certain in regard to his future state, but I have an 
abiding trust in the merits and mediation of our Sa- 
viour." It will assuage the grief ol' his family to 
know that he Looked hopefully beyond the tomb, and 



«" 



'» 



63 

a Christian people will rejoice to liear that such a 
man, in his last hours, reposed with simplicity and 
confidence upon the promises of the Gospel. 

It is the custom, on occasions like this, to speak of 
the parentage and childhood of the deceased, and 
to follow him, step by step, through life. I will not 
attempt to relate even all the great events of Mr. 
Clay's life, because they are familiar to the whole 
country, and it would be needless to enumerate 
a long list of public services which form a part of 
American history. 

Beginning life as a friendless boy, with few advan- 
tages save those conferred by nature, while yet a mi- 
nor, he left Virginia, the State of his birth, and com- 
menced the practice of law at Lexington, in Ken- 
tucky. At a bar remarkable for its numbers and 
talent, Mr. Clay soon rose to the first rank. At a 
very early age he was elected from the county of 
Fayette to the General Assembly of Kentucky, and 
was the Speaker of that body. Coming into the 
Senate of the United States, for the first time, in 
1806, he entered upon a parliamentary career, the 
most brilliant and successful in our annals. From 
that time he remained habitually in the public eye. 
As a Senator, as a member of this House and its 
Speaker, as a representative of his country abroad, 
and as a high officer in the Executive department of 
the Government, he was intimately connected for 



*m ', 



64 

fifty years with every great measure of American 
policy. Of the mere party measures of this period, 
I do not propose to speak. Many of them have 
passed away, and are remembered only as the occa- 
sions lor the great intellectual efforts which marked 
their discussion. Concerning others, opinions are 
still divided. They will go into history, with the 
reasons on either side rendered by the greatest intel- 
lects of the time. 

As a leader in a deliberative body. Mr. ClAT had 
no equal in America. In him, intellect, person, elo- 
quence, and courage, united to form a character fit 
to command. He fired with his own enthusiasm, 
and controlled by his amazing will, individuals and 
masses. No reverse could crush his spirit, nor de- 
feat reduce him to despair. Equally erect and daunt- 
less in prosperity and adversity, when successful, he 
moved to the accomplishment of his purposes with 
severe resolution; when defeated, he rallied his bro- 
ken bands around him, and from his eagle eye shot 
along their ranks the contagion of his own courage. 
Destined for a leader, he everywhere asserted his 
destiny. In his long and eventful life he came in 
contact with men of all ranks and professions, but 
lie never felt that he was in the presence of a man 
superior to himself. In the assemblies of the peo- 
ple, at the bar, in the Senate — everywhere within 



-a 



m 

65 

the circle of his personal presence he assumed and 
maintained a position of preeminence. 

But the supremacy of Mr. Clay, as a party leader, 
was not his only, nor his highest title to renown. 
That title is to be found in the purely patriotic spirit 
which, on great occasions, always signalized his con- 
duct. We have had no statesman, who, in periods 
of real and imminent public peril, has exhibited a 
more genuine and enlarged patriotism than Henry 
Clay. Whenever a question presented itself actu- 
ally threatening the existence of the Union, Mr. 
Clay, rising above the passions of the hour, always 
exerted his powers to solve it peacefully and honour- 
ably. Although more liable than most men, from 
his impetuous and ardent nature, to feel strongly the 
passions common to us all, it was his rare faculty to 
be able to subdue them in a great crisis, and to hold 
toward all sections of the confederacy the language 
of concord and brotherhood. 

Sir, it will be a proud pleasure to every true Ameri- 
can heart to remember the great occasions when Mr. 
Clay has displayed a sublime patriotism — when the 
ill-temper engendered by the times, and the misera- 
ble jealousies of the day, seemed to have been driven 
from his bosom by the expulsive power of nobler 
feelings — when every throb of his heart was given 
to his country, every effort of his intellect dedicated 

5 



66 

to her Bervice. Who does not remember the three 
periods when the American Bystem of Government 
was exposed to its severest trials; and who does not 
know that when history shall relate the Btruggle 
which preceded, and the dangers which were averted 
by the Missouri compromise, the Tariff compro- 
mise of 1832, and the adjustment of 1850, the same 
pages will record the genius, the eloquence, and the 
patriotism of HENRY ('lay? 

Nor was it in Mr. Clay's nature to lag behind un- 
til measures of adjustment were matured, and then 
come forward to swell a majority. On the contrary, 
like a hold and real statesman, he was ever among 
the first to meet the peril, and hazard his lame upon 
the remedy. It is fresh in the memory of us all that, 
when lately the fury of sectional discord threatened 
to sever the confederacy, Mr. Clay, though with- 
drawn from public life, and oppressed by the burden 
of years, came back to the Senate — the theatre of his 
.-lory — and devoted the remnant of his strength to 
the sacred duty of pivser\ iug the union of the Stat*-. 

With characteristic courage he took the lead in 
proposing a scheme of settlement. But while he 
was willing to assume the responsibility of propos- 
ing a plan, he did not, with petty ambition, insist 
upon its adoption to the exclusion of other modes; 
hut, taking his own as a starting point lor discussion 
and practical action, he nobly laboured with his com- 



67 

patriots to change and improve it in such form as to 
make it an acceptable adjustment. Throughout the 
long and arduous struggle, the love of country ex- 
pelled from his bosom the spirit of selfishness, and 
Mr. Clay proved, for the third time, that though he 
was ambitious and loved glory, he had no ambition 
to mount to fame on the confusions of his country. 
And this conviction is lodged in the hearts of the 
people; the party measures and the party passions 
of former times have not, for several years, inter- 
posed between Mr. Clay and the masses of his coun- 
trymen. After 1850, he seemed to feel that his mis- 
sion was accomplished ; and, during the same period, 
the regards and affections of the American people 
have been attracted to him in a remarkable degree. 
For many months, the warmest feelings, the deepest 
anxieties of all parties, centered upon the dying 
statesman ; the glory of his great actions shed a mel- 
low lustre on his declining years ; and to fill the mea- 
sure of his fame, his countrymen, weaving for him 
the laurel wreath, with common hands, did bind it 
about his venerable brows, and send him crowned, to 
history. 

The life of Mr. Clay, sir, is a striking example of 
the abiding fame which surely awaits the direct and 
candid statesman. The entire absence of equivoca- 
tion or disguise, in all his acts, was his master-key 
to the popular heart ; for while the people will for- 



®« 



»« 



f,s 



give the errors of u bold and open nature, lie sins 
past forgiveness, who deliberately deceives them. 
Bence .Mr. Clay, though often defeated in his mea- 
sures of policy, always secured the respect of his op- 
ponents without losing the confidence of his friends. 
lie never paltered in a double sense. The country 
was never in doubt as to his opinions or his purposes. 
In all the contests of his time, his position on great 
public questions, was as clear as the sun in a cloudlet 
sky. Sir, standing by the grave of this great man, 
and considering these things, how contemptible does 
appear the mere legerdemain of politics ! What a re- 
proach is his life on that false policy which would 
trifle with a great and upright people ! If I were to 
write his epitaph, I would inscribe, as the highest 
eulogy, on the stone which shall mark his resting- 
place, "Here lies a man who was in the public ser- 
vice for fifty years, and never attempted to deceive 
his countrymen." 

While the youth of America should imitate his 
noble qualities, they may take courage from his ca- 
reer, and note the high proof it affords that, under 
our equal institutions, the avenues to honour are open 
to all. Mr. Clay rose by the force of his own ge- 
nius, unaided by power, patronage, or wealth. At 
an age when our young men are usually advanced 
to the higher schools of learning, provided only with 
the rudiments of an English education, he turned 



69 

his steps to the West, and amidst the rude collisions 
of a border-life, matured a character whose highest 
exhibitions were destined to mark eras in his coun- 
try's history. Beginning on the frontiers of Ameri- 
can civilization, the orphan boy, supported only by 
the consciousness of his own powers, and by the con- 
fidence of the people, surmounted all the barriers of 
adverse fortune, and won a glorious name in the an- 
nals of his country. Let the generous youth, fired 
with honourable ambition, remember that the Ame- 
rican system of government offers on every hand 
bounties to merit. If, like Clay, orphanage, obscu- 
rity, poverty, shall oppress him; yet if, like Clay, 
he feels the Promethean spark within, let him re- 
member that his country, like a generous mother, 
extends her arms to welcome and to cherish every 
one of her children whose genius and worth may 
promote her prosperity or increase her renown. 

Mr. Speaker, the signs of woe around us, and the 
general voice, announce that another great man has 
fallen. Our consolation is that he was not taken in 
the vigour of his manhood, but sank into the grave 
at the close of a long and illustrious career. The 
great statesmen who have filled the largest space in 
the public eye, one by one are passing away. Of 
the three great leaders of the Senate, one alone re- 
mains, and he must follow soon. We shall witness 
no more their intellectual struggles in the American 



«■ 



'I) 



Forum; bu1 the monuments of their genius will be 
cherished as the common property of the people, and 
their names will continue to confer dignity and re- 
nown upon their country. 

Nut less illustrious than the greatest of these will 
be the name of Clay — a name pronounced with 
pride by Americans in every quarter of the globe; 
a name to be remembered while history shall record 
the struggles of modern Greece for freedom, or the 
spirit of liberty burn in the South American bosom; 
a living and immortal name — a name that would 
descend to posterity without the aid of letters, borne 
by tradition from generation to generation. Every 
memorial of such a man will possess a meaning and 
a value to his countrymen. His tomb will be a hal- 
lowed spot. Great memories will cluster there, and 
his countrymen, as they visit it, may well exclaim — 

"Such graves as his arc pilgrim ^liri n.-<. 
Shrines to no creed or code conliued; 
The Delphian vale.--, the Palestine*, 
Tin- Meocaa of the mind." 

Mr. Speaker, I oiler the following resolutions: 

Resolved, That the Souse of Representatives of the 
United States has received, with the deepest sensibility, in- 
telligence of the death of Henri < Ilay. 

Resolved, Thai the officers and members of tin- House of 
Representatives will wear the usual badge of mourning for 
thirty days, as :i testimony of the profound resp > t this 
House entertains for the memory <>t' the deceased. 



71 

Resolved, That the officers and members of the House of 
Representatives, in a body, will attend the funeral of 
Henry Clay, on the day appointed for that purpose by the 
Senate of the United States. 

Resolved, That the proceedings of this House, in relation 
to the death of Henry Clay, be. communicated to the family 
of the deceased by the Clerk. 

Resolved, That as a further mark of respect for the me- 
mory of the deceased, this House do now adjourn. 

Mr. Ewing rose and said: 

A noble heart has ceased to beat for ever. A long 
life of brilliant and self-devoted public service is 
finished at last. We now stand at its conclusion 
looking back through the changeful history of that 
life to its beginning, contemporaneous with the very 
birth of the Republic, and its varied events mingle, 
in our hearts and our memories, with the triumphs 
and calamities, the weakness and the power, the 
adversity and prosperity of a country we love so 
much. As we contemplate this sad event, in this 
place, the shadows of the past gather over us; the 
memories of events long gone crowd upon us, and 
the shades of departed patriots seem to hover about 
us, and wait to receive into their midst the spirit of 
one who was worthy to be a colabourer with them 
in a common cause, and to share in the rewards of 
their virtues. Henceforth he must be to us as one 
of them. 



72 



They Bay he was ambitious. If so, it was a 
grievous fault, and grievously has he answered it. 
Hi' has found in it naught but disappointment. It 
has but served to aggravate the mortification of his 
defeats, and furnish an additional lustre to the 
triumph of his foes. Those who come after us may. 
a v. they will, inquire why his statue stands not 
among the statues of those whom men thought 
ablest and worthiest to govern. 

But his ambition was a high and hoi}' feeling, un- 
selfish, magnanimous. Its aspirations were for his 
country's good, and its triumph was his country's 
prosperity. Whether in honour or reproach, in 
triumph or defeat, that heart of his never throbbed 
with one pulsation save for her honour and her 
welfare. Turn to him in that last best deed, and 
crowning glory of a life so full of public service and 
of honour, when his career of personal ambition was 
finished for ever. Rejected again and again by his 
countrymen; just abandoned by a party which 
wonld scarce have had an existence without his 
genius, his courage, and his labours, that great heart. 
ever linn and defiant to the assaults of his enemies, 
but defenceless against the ingratitude of friends. 
doubtless wrung with the bitterest mortification of 
his life — then it was. and under such circumstances 

as these, the gathering storm ruse upon his country. 
All eyes turned to him; all voices called for those 
services which, in the hour of prosperity and se- 



m — i 

73 

curity, they had so carelessly rejected. With no 
misanthropic chagrin; with no morose, selfish re- 
sentment, he forgot all but his country and that 
country endangered. He returns to the scene of his 
labours and his fame which he had thought to 
have left for ever. A scene — that American Senate 
Chamber — clothed in no gorgeous drapery, shrouded 
in no superstitious awe or ancient reverence for 
hereditary power, but to a reflecting American mind 
more full of interest, or dignity, and of grandeur 
than any spot on this broad earth, not made holy 
by religion's consecrating seal. See him as he 
enters there, tremblingly, but hopefully, upon the 
last, most momentous, perhaps most doubtful conflict 
of his life. Sir, many a gay tournament has been 
more dazzling to the eye of fancy, more gorgeous 
and imposing in the display of jewelry and cloth of 
gold, in the sound of heralds' trumpets, in the grand 
array of princely beauty and of royal pride. Many 
a battle-field has trembled beneath a more ostenta- 
tious parade of human power, and its conquerors 
have been crowned with laurels, honoured with 
triumphs, and apotheosised amid the demigods of 
history; but to the thoughtful, hopeful, philanthropic 
student of the annals of his race, never was there a 
conflict in which such dangers were threatened, such 
hopes imperiled, or the hero of which deserved a 
warmer gratitude, a nobler triumph, or a prouder 
monument. 



«- 



71 

Sir, from thai long, anxious, and exhausting con- 
flict, he never rose again. In thai Last battle for his 
country's honour and his country's Bafety, he received 

the mortal wound which laid him low. and we now 
mourn the death of a martyred patriot. 

But never, in all the -rand drama which the story 
of his life arrays, never has he presented a Bublimer 
or a more touching spectacle than in those last days 
of his decline and death. Broken with the storms 
of State, wounded and scathed in many a fiery con- 
flict, that aged, worn, and decayed body, in such 
mournful contrast with the never-dying strength of 
his giant spirit, he seemed a proud and sacred, 
though a crumbling monument of past glory. Stand- 
ing anions; us, like some ancient colossal ruin amid 
the degenerate and more diminutive structures of 
modern times, its vast proportions magnified by the 
contrast, he reminded us of those days when there 
were eiants in the land, and we remembered that 
even then there was none whose prowess could with- 
stand his arm. To watch him in that slow decline. 
yielding with dignity, and as it were inch by inch. 
to that last enemy, as a hero yields to a conquering 

foe, the glorious light of his intellect blazing still in 

all its wonted brilliancy, and Betting at defiance the 
clouds that vainly attempted to obscure it. he was 
more full of interest than in the day of his glory 

and his power. There are some men whose brightest 

intellectual emanations rise so little superior to the 



t- 



75 

instincts of the animal, that we are led fearfully to 
doubt that cherished truth of the soul's immortality, 
which, even in despair, men press to their doubting 
hearts. But it is in the death of such a man as he 
that we are reassured by the contemplation, of a 
kindred, though superior spirit, of a soul which, im- 
mortal, like his fame, knows no old age, no decay, 
no death. 

The wondrous light of his unmatched intellect 
may have dazzled a world; the eloquence of that 
inspired tongue may have enchanted millions, but 
there are few who have sounded the depths of that 
noble heart. To see him in sickness and in health, 
in joy and in sadness, in the silent watches of the 
night and in the busy daytime — this it was to know 
and love him. To see the impetuous torrent of that 
resistless will ; the hurricane of those passions hushed 
in peace, breathe calm and gently as a summer 
zephyr; to feel the gentle pressure of that hand in 
the grasp of friendship which in the rage of fiery 
conflict would hurl scorn and defiance at his foe; 
to see that eagle eye which oft would burn with 
patriotic ardour, or flash with the lightning of his 
anger, beam with the kindliest expressions of tender- 
ness and affection — then it was, and then alone, we 
could learn to know and feel that that heart was 
warmed by the same sacred fire from above which 
enkindled the light of his resplendent intellect. In 
the death of such a man even patriotism itself might 



»• 



76 

pause, and for a moment stand aloof* av 1 1 i 1 < * friend- 
ship slid! ;i tear of sorrow upon his bier. 

" His life wa? gentle; and the elements 
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up 
And Bay to all the world, This was a man!'' 

But who can estimate his country's loss? What 
tongue portray the desolation which in this hour 
throughout this broad land hangs like a gloomy pall 
over his grief-stricken countrymen? How poorly 
can words like mine translate the eloquence of a 
whole people's grief for a patriot's death. For a 
nation's loss let a nation mourn. For that stu- 
pendous calamity to our country and mankind, be 
the heavens hung with black; let the wailing ele- 
ments chant his dirge, and the universal heart of 
man throb with one common pang of grief and 
anguish. 

Mr. Cask 1 1: said : — 

Mr. Speaker: Unwell as I am, I must try to lay a 

single laurel leaf in that open coffin which is already 

garlanded by the eloquent tributes to the illustrious 
Departed, which have been heard in this now solemn 

Hall ; for I come. sir. from the district of his birth. 

1 represent on this floor that old Banover so proud of 
her Henrys — her Patrick Henry and her lh:\i;v 

Clay. I speak fora People anion-- whom he has 

always had as earnest and devoted friends as were 
ever the grace and -lory of a patriot and statesman. 



77 

I shall attempt no sketch of his life. That you 
have had from other and abler hands than mine. 
Till' yesterday that life was, of his own free gift, the 
property of his country; to-day it belongs to her 
history. It is known to all, and will not be for- 
gotten. Constant, stern opponent of his political 
school as has been my State, I say for her, that no- 
where in this broad land are his great qualities more 
admired, or is his death more mourned, than in Vir- 
ginia. Well may this be so ; for she is his mother, 
and he was her son. 

Mr. Speaker, when I remember the party strifes 
in which he was so much mingled, and through 
which we all more or less have passed, and then 
survey this scene, and think how far, as the light- 
ning has borne the news that he is gone, half-masted 
flags are drooping and church bells are tolling, and 
hearts are sorrowing, I can but feel that it is good for 
man to die. For when Death enters, ! how the 
unkindnesses, and jealousies, and rivalries of life do 
vanish, and how like incense from an altar do peace, 
and friendship, and all the sweet charities of our 
nature, rise around the corpse which was once a 
man ! And of a truth, Mr. Speaker, never was more 
of veritable noble manhood cased in mortal mould 
than was found in him to whose memory this brief 
and humble, yet true and heartfelt tribute is paid. 
But his eloquent voice is hushed, his high heart is 
stilled. " Like a shock of corn fully ripe, he has 



ft. 



78 

been gathered to his fathers." With more than 
three score years and ten upon him, .and honours 
clustered thick about him, in the full possession of 
unclouded intellect, and all the consolations of Chris- 
tianity, he has met the fate which is evitable by 
none Lamented by all his countrymen, his name 
is bright on Fame's immortal roll. He has finished 
his course, and he has his crown. What more fruit 
can life hear? What can it give that Henry Clay 
has not gained ? 

Then, Mr. Speaker, around his tomb should be 
heard not only the dirge that wails his loss, but the 
jubilant anthem which sounds that on the world's 
battle-iield another victory has been won — another 
incontestable greatness achieved. 

Mr. Chandler, of Pennsylvania, said : — 

Mr. SPEAKER: It would seem as if the solemn invo- 
cation of the honourable gentleman from Kentucky 
( Mr. Ewdjg) was receiving an early answer, and 
that the heavens are hung in black, and the wailing 
elements are singing the funeral dirge of IIlxky 
Clay. Amid this elemental gloom, and the distn 
which pervades the nation at the death of Henby 
Clay, private grief should not obtrude itself upon 
notice, nor personal anguish seek for utterance. 
Silence is the best exponent of individual sorrow, 
and the heart that knoweth its own bitterness 
shrinks from an exposition of its affliction. 



79 

Could I have consulted my own feelings on the 
event which occupies the attention of the House at 
the present moment, I should even have forborne 
attendance here, and in the solitude and silence of 
my chamber have mused upon the terrible lesson 
which has been administered to the people and tfce 
nation. But I represent a constituency who justly 
pride themselves upon the unwavering attachment 
they have ever felt and manifested to Hexry Clay 
— a constant, pervading, hereditary love. The son 
has taken up the father's affection, and amid all the 
professions of political attachments to others, whom 
the accidents of party have made prominent, and 
the success of party has made powerful, true to his 
own instincts, and true to the sanctified legacy of 
his father, he has placed the name of Henry Clay 
forward and pre-eminent as the exponent of what is 
greatest in statesmanship and purest in patriotism. 
And even, sir, when party fealty caused other at- 
tachments to be avowed for party uses, the pre- 
ference was limited to the occupancy of office, and 
superiority admitted for Clay in all that is reckoned 
above party estimation. 

Nor ought I to forbear to add that, as the senior 
member of the delegation which represents my Com- 
monwealth, I am requested to utter the sentiments 
of the people of Pennsylvania at large, who yield to 
no portion of this great Union in their appreciation 
of the talents, their reverence for the lofty patriot- 



— a 



80 

ism, their admiration of the statesmanship, and here- 
after their love of the memory of Henri Clay. 

I cannot, therefore, be silent on this occasion with- 
out injustice to the affections of my constituency, 
even though I painfully feel how inadequate to the 
reverence and love my people have toward that 
statesman must be all that 1 have to utter on this 
mournful occasion. 

I know not, Mr. Chairman, where now the nation 
is to find the men she needs in peril; cither other 
calls than those of politics are holding in abeyance 
the talents which the nation may need, or else a 
generation is to pass undistinguished by the great- 
ness of our statesmen. Of the noble minds that 
have swayed the Senate one yet survives in the 
maturity of powerful intellect, carefully disciplined 
and nobly exercised. May lie who has thus far 
blessed our nation, spare to her and the world that 
of which the world must always envy our country 
the possession! But my business is with the dead. 

The biography of Henry Clay, from his child- 
hood upward, is too familiar to every American for 
me to trespass on the time of this House by a re- 
ference directly thereto; and the honourable gentle- 
men who have preceded me have, with affectionate 
hand and appropriate delicacy, swept away the dust 
which nearly fourscore years have scattered over a 
part of the record, and have made our pride great. -r 
in his life, and our grief more poignant at his death. 



— • 



■>* 



81 

by showing some of those passages which attract 
respect to our republican institutions, of which Mr. 
Clay's whole life was the able support and the most 
successful illustration. 

It would, then, be a work of supererogation for 
me to renew that effort, though inquiry into the life 
and conduct of Henry Clay would present new 
themes for private eulogy, new grounds for public 
gratitude. 

How rare is it, Mr. Speaker, that the great man, 
living, can with confidence rely on extensive per- 
sonal friendship, or dying, think to awaken a senti- 
ment of regret beyond that which includes the public 
loss or the disappointment of individual hopes. Yet, 
sir, the message which yesterday went forth from 
this city that Hexry Clay was dead, brought sorrow, 
personal, private, special sorrow, to the hearts of 
thousands ; each of whom felt that from his own 
love for, his long attachment to, his disinterested 
hopes in Hexry Clay, he had a particular sorrow to 
cherish and express, which weighed upon his heart 
separate from the sense of national loss. 

No man, Mr. Speaker, in our nation had the art 
so to identify himself with public measures of the 
most momentous character, and to maintain at the 
same time almost universal affection, like that great 
statesman. His business, from his boyhood, was 
with national concerns, and he dealt with them as 
with familiar things. And yet his sympathies were 



— # 



B2 

with individual interests, enterprises, affections, joys, 
and Borrows'; and while every patriot bowed in 
humble deference to his lofty attainments and heart- 
fell gratitude for his national services, almost every 

man in this vast Republic knew that the great 
statesman was, in feeling and experience, identified 
with his own position. Hence the universal love of 
the people; hence their enthusiasm in all times for 
his fame. Hence, sir. their present grief. 

Many other public men of our country have dis- 
tinguished themselves and brought honour to the 
nation by superiority in some peculiar branch of 
public service, but it seems to have been the gin of 
Mr. CLAY to have acquired peculiar eminence in 
every path of duty he was called to tread. In the 
earnestness of debate, which great public interests 
and distinguished opposing talents excited in this 
House, he had no superior in energy, force, or effect. 
Yet, as the presiding officer, by blandness of language 
and firmness of purpose, he soothed and made orderly; 
and thus, by official dignity, he commanded the re- 
spect which energy had secured to him on the floor. 

Wherever official or social duties demanded an 

exercise of his power there was a pre-eminence which 
seemed prescriptively his own. In the lofty debate 
of the Senate and the Btirring harangues to popular 

assemblages, he was the orator of the nation and of 
the people; and the sincerity of purpose and the 
unity of design evinced in all he said or did. fixed 









f 

83 

in the public mind a confidence strong and expansive 
as the affections he had won. 

Year after year, sir, has Henry Clay been achiev- 
ing the -work of the mission with which he was in- 
trusted ; and it was only when the warmest wishes 
of his warmest friends were disappointed, that he 
entered on the fruition of a patriot's highest hopes, 
and stood in the full enjoyment of that admiration 
and confidence which nothing but the antagonism 
of party relations could have divided. 

How rich that enjoyment must have been it is 
only for us to imagine. How eminently deserved it 
was we and the world can attest. 

The love and the devotion of his political friends 
were cheering and grateful to his heart, and were 
acknowledged in all his life — were recognised even 
to his death. 

The contest in the Senate Chamber or the forum 
were rewarded with success achieved, and the great 
victor could enjoy the ovation which partial friend- 
ship or the gratitude of the benefit prepared. But 
the triumph of his life was no party achievement. 
It was not in the applause. which admiring friends 
and defeated antagonists offered to his measureless 
success, that he found the reward of his labours, and 
comprehended the extent of his mission. 

It was only when friends and antagonists paused 
in their contests, appalled at the public difficulties 
and national dangers which had been accumulating, 



84 

unseen and unregarded ; it was only when the nation 
itself felt the danger, and ackno^ Ledged the inefficacy 
of party action as a remedy, that Henby Clay calcu- 
lated the full extent of his powers, and enjoyed the 

reward of their .saving exercise. Then, sir, you 
saw, and I saw, party designations dropped, and 
party allegiance disavowed, and anxious patriots, of 
all localities and name, turn toward the country's 
benefactor as the man for the terrible exigencies of 
the hour; and the sick chamber of Henry Clay be- 
came the Delphos whence were given out the oracles 
that presented the means and the measures of our 
Union's safety. There, sir, and not in the high 
places of the country, were the labours and sacriil 
of half a century to be rewarded and closed. With 
his right yet in that Senate which he had entered 
the youngest, and lingered still the eldest member, 
he felt that his work was done, and the object of his 
life accomplished. Every cloud that had dimmed 
the noonday lustre had been dissipated ; and the re- 
tiring orb, which sunk from the sight of the nation 
in fullness and in beauty, will yet pour up the hori- 
zon a posthumous glory that shall tell of the splen- 
dour and greatness of the luminary that has passed 
away. 



— » 



85 

Mr. Bayly, of Virginia, 

Mr. Speaker : Although I have been all my life a 
political opponent of Mr. Clay, yet from my boyhood 
I have been upon terms of personal friendship with 
him. More than twenty years ago, I was introduced 
to him by my father, who was his personal friend. 
From that time to this, there has existed between 
us as great personal intimacy as the disparity in our 
years and our political difference would justify. 
After I became a member of this House, and upon 
his return to the Senate, subsequent to his resigna- 
tion in 1842, the warm regard upon his part for the 
daughter of a devoted friend of forty years' standing, 
made him a constant visitor at my house, and fre- 
quently a guest at my table. These circumstances 
make it proper, that upon this occasion, I should pay 
this last tribute to his memory. I not only knew 
him well as a statesman, but I knew him better in 
most unreserved social intercourse. The most happy 
circumstance, as I esteem it, of nry political life has 
been, that I have thus known each of our great Con- 
gressional triumvirate. 

I, sir, never knew a man of higher qualities than 
Mr. Clay. His very faults originated in high 
qualities. With as great self-possession, with greater 
self-reliance than any man I ever knew, he possessed 
moral and physical courage to as high a degree as 
any man who ever lived. Confident in his own 
judgment, never doubting as to his own course, 



«■ 



86 

fearing no obstacle thai mighl lie in his way, it was 
almost impossible that he should not have been im- 
perious in his character. Never doubting himself as 
to what, in his opinion, duty and patriotism required 

nt his hands, it was natural thai he should Bometimes 
have been impatient with those more doubting and 
timid than himself. His were qualities to have 
made a great general, as they were qualities that 
did make him a greal state-man. and these qualities 
were so obvious that during the darkest period of 
our late war with Great Britain, Mr. Madison had 
determined, at one time, to make him General-in- 
Chief of the American army. 

Sir, it is but a short time since the American 
Congress buried the first one that went to the grave 
of that great triumvirate. We are now called upon 
to bury another. The third, thank God! still lives, 
and long may ho live to enlighten his countrymen 
by his wisdom, and set them the example of exalted 
patriotism. Sir, in the lives and characters of these 
greal men. there is much resembling those of the 
great triumvirate of the British Parliament. It 
differs principally in this: Burke preceded Fox and 
Pitt to the tomb. Webster survives Clay and Cal- 
houn. When Fox and Pitt died, they left no 
peer behind them. Webster still lives, now that 

Calhoun and Clay are dead, the unrivalled states- 
man of his country. Like Fos and Pitt, Clay and 
Calhoun lived in troubled times. Like Fox and 



o 



87 

Pitt they were each of them the leader of rival 
parties. Like Fox and Pitt they were idolized by 
their respective friends. Like Fox and Pitt, they 
died about the same time, and in the public service; 
and as has been said of Fox and Pitt, Clay and Cal- 
houn died with "their harness upon them." Like 
Fox and Pitt — 

"With more than mortal powers endow'd 
How high they soar'd above the crowd; 
Theirs was no common party race, 
Jostling by dark intrigue for place — 
Like fabled gods their mighty war 
Shook realms and nations in its jar. 
Beneath each banner proud to stand, 

Look'd up the noblest of the land. 

***** 
Here let their discord with them die. 
Speak not for those a separate doom ; 
Whom fate made brothers in the tomb ; 
But search the land of living men, 
Where wilt thou find their like again?" 

Mr. Venable, said : — 

Mr. Speaker : I trust that I shall be pardoned for 
adding a few words upon this sad occasion. The 
life of the illustrious statesman which has just ter- 
minated is so interwoven with our history, and the 
lustre of his great name so profusely shed over its 
pages, that simple admiration of his high qualities 
might well be my excuse. But it is a sacred privilege 
to draw near; to contemplate the end of the great 
and the good. It is profitable as well as purifying 
to look upon and realize the office of death in re- 
moving all that can excite jealousy or produce dis- 



■* 



88 

trust, and to gaze upon the virtues which, like jewels, 
have Burvived hia powers of destruction. The lighl 
which radiates &om the life of a great and patriotic 
statesman is often dimmed by the mists which party 
conflicts throw around it. But the blast which 
strikes him clown purifies the atmosphere which 
surrounded him in life, and it shines forth in bright 
examples and well-earned renown. It is then that 
we witness the sincere acknowledgment of gratitude 
by a people who, having enjoyed the henefits arising 
from the services of an eminent statesman, embalm 
his name in their memory anil hearts. We should 
cherish such recollections as well from patriotism as 
self-respect. Ours, sir. is now the duty, in the midst 
of Badness, in this high place, in the lace of our Re- 
public, and before the world, to pay this tribute by 
acknowledging the merits of our colleague, whose 
name has ornamented the Journals of Congress for 
near half a century. Few, very few, have ever com- 
bined the high intellectual powers and distinguished 
gills of this illustrious Senator. Cast in the finest 
mould by nature, he more than fulfilled the antici- 
pations which were indulged by those who looked 
to a distinguished career as the certain result of that 
zealous pursuit of fame and usefulness upon which 
he entered in early life. Of the incidents of that 
life it is unnecessary for me to speak — they are as 
familiar as household words, and must he equally 
familiar to those who come after us. Hut it is use- 



89 

ful to refresh memory, by recurrence to some of 
the events which marked his career. We know, 
sir, that there is much that is in common in the his- 
tories of distinguished men. The elements which 
constitute greatness are the same in all times; hence 
those who have been the admiration of their genera- 
tions present in their lives much which, although 
really great, ceases to be remarkable, because illus- 
trated by such numerous examples — 

"But there are deeds which should not pass away, 
And names that must not wither." 

Of such deeds the life of Henry Clay affords 
many and bright examples. His own name, and 
those with whom he associated, shall live with a 
freshness which time cannot impair, and shine with 
a brightness which passing years cannot dim. His 
advent into public life was as remarkable for the 
circumstances as it was brilliant in its effect. It 
was at a time in which genius and learning, states- 
manship and eloquence, made the American Con- 
gress the most august body in the world. He was 
the contemporary of a race of statesmen, some of 
whom — then administering the Government, and 
others retiring and retired from office — presented an 
array of ability unsurpassed in our history. The 
elder Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Gallatin, Clinton, 
and Monroe, stood before the Republic in the ma- 
turity of their fame; while Calhoun, John Quincy 
Adams, Lowndes, Randolph, Crawford, Gaston, and 



'.Ml 

Cheves, with a host of others, rose a bright galaxy 
upon our horizon. Be who won his spurs in such 
:i field earned his knighthood. Distinction amid 
such competition was true renown — 

" The fame which a man -wins for himself is best — 
That he may call his own." 

It was such a fame that he made for himself in 
that most eventful era in our history. To me, sir, 
the recollections of that day. and the events which 
distinguish it, is filled with an overpowering interest. 
I never can forget 1113- enthusiastic admiration of the 
boldness, the eloquence, and the patriotism of Henry 
Clay during the war of 1S1-. In the bright array 
of talent which adorned the Congress of the United 
States; in the conflict growing out of the political 
events of that time; in the struggles of party, and 
amid the gloom and disasters which depressed the 
spirits of most men, and well nigh paralyzed the 
energies of the Administration, his cheerful face, 
high bearing, commanding eloquence and iron will. 
gave strength and consistency to those elements 
which finally gave not only success but glory to the 
country. When dark clouds hovered over us. and 
there was little to save from despair, the country 

looked with hope to CLAY and Calhoun, to Lowndes, 

and Crawford, and Cheves, and looked not in vain. 
The unbending will, the unshaken nerve, and the 
burning eloquence of Henry Clay did as much to 
command confidence and sustain hope as even the 



91 

news of our first victory after a succession of defeats. 
Those great names are now canonized in history; 
he, too, has passed to join them on its pages. Asso- 
ciated in his long political life with the illustrious 
Calhoun, he survived him but two years. Many of 
us heard his eloquent tribute to his memory in the 
Senate Chamber on the annunciation of his death. 
And we this day unite in a similar manifestation of 
reverential regard to him whose voice shall never 
more charm the ear, whose burning thoughts, borne 
on that medium, shall no more move the hearts of 
listening assemblies. 

In the midst of the highest specimens of our race, 
he w r as always an equal ; he was a man among men. 
Bold, skilful, and determined, he gave character to 
the party which acknowledged him as a leader; 
impressed his opinions upon their minds, and an 
attachment to himself upon their hearts. No man, 
sir, can do this without being eminently great. 
Whoever attains this position must first overcome 
the aspirations of antagonist ambition, quiet the 
clamours of rivalry, hold in check the murmurs of 
jealousy, and overcome the instincts of vanity and 
self-love in the masses thus subdued to his control. 
But few men ever attain it. Very rare are the ex- 
amples of those whose plastic touch forms the minds 
and directs the purposes of a great political party. 
This infallible indication of superiority belonged to 
Mr. Clay. He has exercised that control during a 



92 

long life: and now through our broad land the 
tidings of his death, borne with electric speed, have 
opened the fountains of Borrow. Every city, town. 
village, and hamlet will be clothed with mournixi 
along our extended coast, the commercial and mili- 
tary marine, with Hags drooping at half-mast, own 
the bereavement; State-houses draped in black pro- 
claim the extinguishment of one of the great lights 
of Senates; and minute-guns sound his requiem! 

Sir, during the last five years I have Been the 
venerable John Quincy Adams, John C. Calhoun, 
and Henry Clay pass from among us, the legislators 
of our country. The race of giants who "were on 
the earth in those days" is well-nigh gone. Despite 
their skill, their genius, their might, they have sunk 
under the stroke of time. They were our admira- 
tion and our glory; a few linger with us, the monu- 
ments of former greatness, the beacon-lights of a 
past age. The death of IIkxky Clay cannot fail to 
BUggest melancholy associations to each member of 
this Bouse. These walls have re-echoed the silvery 
tones of his bewitching voice; listening assemblies 
have hung upon his lips. The chair which you till 
has been graced by his presence, while his com- 
manding person and unequalled parliamentary at- 
tainments inspired all with deference and respect. 
chosen by acclamation because of his high qualifica- 
tions, he sustained himself before the House and the 
country. In his supremacy with his party, and the 



93 

uninterrupted confidence which he enjoyed to the 
day of his death, he seems to have almost discredited 
the truth of those lines of the poet Laberius — 

"Non possunt primi esse omnes omni in tempore, 
Summum ad gradum cum claritatis veneris, 
Consistes regre, et citius, quam ascendas, cades." 

If not at all times first, he stood equal with the 
foremost, and a brilliant rapid rise knew no decline 
in the confidence of those whose just appreciation of 
his merits had confirmed his title to renown. 

The citizens of other countries will deplore his 
death ; the struggling patriots who on our own conti- 
nent were cheered by his sympathies, and who must 
have perceived his influence in the recognition of 
their independence by this Government, have taught 
their children to venerate his name. He won the 
civic crown, and the demonstrations of this hour 
own the worth of civil services. 

It was with great satisfaction that I heard my 
friend from Kentucky, [Mr. Breckenridge,] the im- 
mediate representative of Mr. Clay, detail a con- 
versation which disclosed the feelings of that emi- 
nent man in relation to his Christian hope. These, 
Mr. Speaker, are rich memorials, precious reminis- 
cences. A Christian statesman is the glory of his 
age, and his memory will be glorious in after times ; 
it reflects a light coming from a source which clouds 
cannot dim nor shadows obscure. It was my privi- 
lege, also, a short time since, to converse with this 



* - 



94 

distinguished Btatesman on the subject of his hop - 
in ;i future Btate. Feeling a deep interest, I asked 

him frankly what were his hopes in the world to 
which he was evidently hastening. " I am pleased;" 

sai<l lie, "my friend, that you have introduced the 
subject. Conscious that I must die very soon, I love 
to meditate upon the most important of all interests. 
I love to converse and to hear conversations about 
them. The vanity of the world and its insufficiency 
to satisfy the soul of man has long been a settled 
conviction of my mind. Man's inability to secure 
by his own merits the approbation of God, I feel to 
be true. I trust in the atonement of the Saviour of 
men as the ground of my acceptance and my hope 
of salvation. My faith is feeble, but I hope in His 
mercy and trust in His promises." To such declara- 
tions I listened with the deepest interest, as I did on 
another occasion, when he said: "I am willing to 
abide the will of Heaven, and ready to die when 
that will shall determine it." 

lie is gone, sir, professing the humble hope of a 
Christian. That hope, alone, sir, can sustain you, 
or any of us. There is one lonely and crushed 
heart that has bowed before this afflictive event. 
far away, at Ashland, a widowed wife, prevented 
by feeble health from attending his bedside and 
soothing his painful hours, she has thought even the 
electric speed of the intelligence daily transmitted of 
his condition too slow for her aching, anxious bosom. 



95 

She will find consolation in his Christian submission, 
and will draw all of comfort that such a case admits 
from the assurance that nothing was neglected by 
the kindness of friends which could supply her place. 
May the guardianship of the widow's God be her pro- 
tection, and His consolations her support ! 

• "All cannot be at all times first, 

To reach the topmost step of glory ; to stand there 
More hard. Even swifter than we mount we fall." 

Mr. Haven, said: — 

Mr. Speaker : Representing a constituency distin- 
guished for the constancy of its devotion to the politi- 
cal principles of Mr. Clay, and for its unwavering 
attachment to his fortunes and his person — sympa- 
thizing deeply with those whose more intimate per- 
sonal relations with him have made them feel most 
profoundly this general bereavement — I desire to 
say a few words of him, since he has fallen amongst 
us, and been taken to his rest. 

After the finished eulogies which have been so 
eloquently pronounced by the honourable gentlemen 
who have preceded me, I will avoid a course of re- 
mark which might otherwise be deemed a repetition, 
and refer to the bearing of some of the acts of the 
deceased upon the interests and destinies of my own 
State. The influence of his public life, and of his 
purely American character, the benefits of his wise 
forecast, and the results of his efforts for wholesome 



®- 



.. 



96 

and rational progress, are nowhere more strongly ex- 
hibited than in the State of New York. 

Our appreciation of his anxiety for the general 
diffusion <>f knowledge and education, is manifested 

in our twelve thousand public libraries, our equal 
number of common schools, and a large number of 
higher institutions of learning, all of which draw^or- 
tions of their support from the share of the proceeds 
of the public lands, which his wise policy gave to 
our State. Our whole people are thus constantly re- 
minded of their great obligations to the statesman 
whose death now afflicts the nation with sorrow. 
Our extensive public works, attest our conviction of 
the utility and importance of the system of internal 
improvements he so ably advocated; and their value 
and productiveness, afford a most striking evidence 
of the soundness and wisdom of his policy. Nor has 
his influence been less sensibly felt in our agriculture, 
commerce, and manufactures. Every department of 
human industry acknowledges his fostering care; and 
the people of New York are, in no small measure, in- 
debted to his statesmanship for the wealth, comfort, 
contentment, and happiness so widely and generally 
diffused throughout the State. 

Well may New York cherish his memory and ac- 
knowlege with gratitude the benefits that his life has 
conferred. That memory will be cherished through- 
out the Republic. 

When internal discord and sectional strife have 



«= 



97 

threatened the integrity of the Union, his just weight 
of character, his large experience, his powers of con- 
ciliation and acknowledged patriotism, have enabled 
him to pacify the angry passions of his countrymen, 
and to raise the bow of promise and of hope upon the 
clouds which have darkened the political horizon. 

He has passed from amongst us, ripe in wisdom 
and pure in character — full of years and full of ho- 
nours — he has breathed his last amidst the blessings 
of a united and grateful nation. 

He was, in my judgment, particularly fortunate 
in the time of his death. 

He lived to see his country, guided by his wisdom, 
come once again unhurt, out of trying sectional diffi- 
culties and domestic strife; and he has closed his 
eyes in death upon that country, whilst it is in the 
enjoyment of profound peace, busy with industry? 
and blessed with unequalled prosperity. 

It can fall to the lot of but few to die amidst so 
warm a gratitude flowing from the hearts of their 
countrymen ; and none can leave a brighter example 
or a more enduring fame. 

Mr. Brooks, of New York, said: — 

Mr. Speaker : I rise to add my humble tribute to 
the memory of a great and good man now to be ga- 
thered to his fathers. I speak for, and from, a com- 
munity in whose heart is enshrined the name of him 
whom we mourn; who, however much Virginia, the 



«■ 



98 

land of his birth, or Kentucky, the land of his adop- 
tion, may love him, is, if possible, loved where I live 
jet more. If idolatry had been Christian, or allow- 
able even, he would have been our idol. But as it 
is, for a quarter of a century now, his bust, his por- 
trait, or some medal, has been one of our household 
gods, gracing not alone the saloons and the halls of 
wealth, but the humblest room or workshop of almost 
every mechanic or labourer. Proud monuments of 
his policy as a statesman, as my colleague has justly 
said, are all about us; and we owe to him, in a good 
degree, our growth, our greatness, our prosperity and 
happiness as a people. 

The great field of Henry Clay, Mr. Speaker, has 
been here, on the floor of this House, and in the other 
wing of the Capitol. lie has held other posts of 
higher nominal distinction, but they are all eclipsed 
by the brilliancy of his career as a Congressman. 
What of glory lie has acquired, or what most endear 
him to his countrymen, have been Avon, here, amid 
these pillars, under these domes of the Capitol. 

"Si qurcris monumcntuui, circumspicc." 

The mind of Mr. Clay has been the governing 

mind of the country, more or less, ever since he has 
been on the stage of public action. In a minority or 
majority — more, perhaps, even in a minority than in 
a majority — he seems to haw had some commission, 
divine as it were, to persuade, to convince, to govern 



»' 



.» 



99 

other men. His patriotism, his grand conceptions, 
have created measures which the secret fascination 
of his manners, in-doors, or his irresistible eloquence 
without, have enabled him almost always to frame 
into laws. Adverse administrations have yielded to 
him, or been borne down by him, or he has taken 
them captive as a leader, and carried the country and 
Congress with him. This power he has wielded now 
for nearly half a century, with nothing but Reason 
and Eloquence to back him. And yet when he 
came here, years ago, he came from a then frontier 
State of this Union, heralded by no loud trumpet of 
fame, nay, quite unknown ! unfortified even by any 
position, social or pecuniary; — to quote his own 
words, "My only heritage has been infancy, indi- 
gence, and ignorance." 

In these days, Mr. Speaker, when mere civil quali- 
fications for high public places — when long civil 
training and practical statesmanship are held subor- 
dinate — a most discouraging prospect would be rising 
up before our young men, were it not for some such 
names as Lowndes, Crawford, Clinton, Gaston, Cal- 
houn, Clay, and the like, scattered along the pages of 
our historv, as stars or constellations alono; a cloud- 
less sky. They shine forth and show us, that if the 
Chief Magistracy cannot be won by such qualifica- 
tions, a memory among men can be — a hold upon 
posterity, as firm, as lustrous — nay, more imperisha- 
ble. In the Capitolium of Rome there are long rows 



■4) 



mrnM 



100 

of marble Blabs, on which are recorded the names of 
the Roman consuls; but the eye wanders over this 
wilderness of letters but to light up and kindle upon 
some Cato or Cicero. To win such fame, thus un- 
sullied, as Mr. Clay has won, is worth any man's 
ambition. And how was it won? By courting the 
shifting gales of popularity? No, never! By truck- 
line to the schemes, the arts, and seductions of 
the demagogue? Never, never! His hardest bat- 
tles as a public man — his greatest, most illustrious 
achievements — have been against, at first, an adverse 
public opinion. To gain an imperishable name, he 
has often braved the perishable popularity of the 
moment. That sort of courage which, in a public 
man, I deem the highest of all courage, that sort of 
courage most necessary under our form of govern- 
ment to guide as well as to save a State, Mr. Clay 
was possessed of more than any public man I ever 
knew. Physical courage, valuable, indispensable 
though it be, we share but with the brute; but moral 
courage, to dare to do right amid all temptations to do 
wrong, is, as it seems to me, the very highest Bpecies, 
the noblest heroism, under institutions like ours. k% I 
had rather be right than be President," was Mr. 
Clay's sublime reply when pressed to refrain from 
some measure that would mar his popularity. These 
lofty words were the clue of his whole character — the 
secret of his hold upon the heads as well as hearts of the 
American people; nay, the key of his immortality. 



rati 



101 

Another of the keys, Mr. Speaker, of his universal 
reputation was his intense nationality. When taunt- 
ed but recently, almost within our hearing, as it were, 
on the floor of the Senate by a Southern Senator, as 
being a Southern man unfaithful to the South — his 
indignant but patriotic exclamation was, "I know no 
South, no North, no East, no West." The country, 
the whole country, loved, reverenced, adored such a 
man. The soil of Virginia may be his birthplace, 
the sod of Kentucky will cover his grave — what was 
mortal they claim — but the spirit, the soul, the 
genius of the mighty man, the immortal part, these 
belong to his country and to his God. 

Mr. Faulkner, of Virginia, said : — 

Representing, in part, the State which gave birth 
to that distinguished man whose death has just been 
announced upon this floor, and having for many 
years held toward him the most cordial relations of 
friendship, personal and political, I feel that I should 
fail to discharge an appropriate duty, if I permitted 
this occasion to pass by without some expression of 
the feeling which such an event is so well calculated 
to elicit. Sir, this intelligence does not fall upon 
our ears unexpectedly. For months the public mind 
has been prepared for the great national loss which 
we now deplore ; and yet, as familiar as the daily 
and hourly reports have made us with his hopeless 
condition and gradual decline, and although 



=■# 



102 

"Like a Bhadov thrown 

Softly and Bweetly from a passing clou<], 
Death fell upon him," 

it Is impossible that a light of such surpassing Bplen- 

dour should be, as it is now, for ever extinguished 
from our view, without producing a shock, deeply 

and painfully felt, to the utmost limits of this gnat 
Republic. Sir, we all feel that a mighty intellect 
has passed from among us 5 but, happily for this 
country, happily for mankind, not until it had ac- 
complished to some extent the exalted mission for 
which it had been sent upon this earth ; not until 
it had reached the full maturity of its usefulness and 
power; not until it had shed a bright and radiant 
lustre over our national renown; not until time had 
enabled it to bequeath the rich treasures of its 
thought and experience for the guidance and in- 
struction of the present and of succeeding genera- 
tions. 

Sir, it is difficult, — it is impossible, — within the 
limit allowed for remarks upon occasions of this 
kind, to do justice to a great historical character like 
HENBT ('lav. lie was one of that class of men 
whom Scaliger designates as 1i<>niin<s centenarii — 
men that appear upon the earth but once in a 
century. His fame is the growth of years, and it 
would require time to unfold the elements which 
have combined to impart to it so much of stability 
and grandeur. Volumes have already been written, 
and volumes will continue to be written, to record 



•« 



103 

those eminent and distinguished public services 
which have placed him in the front rank of Ameri- 
can statesmen and patriots. The highest talents, 
stimulated by a fervid and patriotic enthusiasm, has 
already and will continue to exhaust its powers to 
portray those striking and generous incidents of his 
life, — those shining and captivating qualities of his 
heart, which have made him one of the most beloved, 
as he was one of the most admired, of men ; and yet 
the subject itself will remain as fresh and exhaust- 
less as if hundreds of the best intellects of the land 
had not quaffed the inspiration of their genius from 
the ever-gushing and overflowing fountains of his 
fame. It could not be that a reputation so grand 
and colossal as that which attaches to the name of 
Henry Clay could rest for its base upon any single 
virtue, however striking ; nor upon any single act, 
no matter how marked or distinguished. Such a 
reputation as he has left behind him, could only be 
the result of a long life of illustrious public service. 
And such in truth it was. For nearly half a cen- 
tury he has been a prominent actor in all the stirring 
and eventful scenes of American history, fashioning 
and moulding many of the most important measures 
of public policy by his bold and sagacious mind, and 
arresting others by his unconquerable energy and 
resistless force of eloquence. And however much 
the members of this body may differ in opinion as 
to the wisdom of many of his views of national 



•m 



104 

domestic policy, there is not one upon this floor — no, 
sir, nol one in this nation — who will deny to him 

frankness and directness as a public man ; a genius 
for statesmanship of the highest order j extraordi- 
nary capacities for public usefulness, and an ardent 
and elevated patriotism, without stain and without 
reproach. 

In referring to a career of public service so varied 
and extended as that of Mr. Clay, and to a character 
so rich in every great and manly virtue, it is only 
possible to glance at a few of the most prominent of 
those points of his personal history, which have given 
to him so distinguished a place in the affections of 
his countrymen. 

In the whole character of Mr. Clay, in all that 
attached or belonged to it, you find nothing that is 
not essentially American. Born in the darkest 
period of our revolutionary struggle; reared from 
infancy to manhood among those great minds which 
gave the first impulse to that mighty movement, he 
early imbibed and sedulously cherished those great 
principles of civil and political liberty, which he so 
brilliantly illustrated in his subsequent life, and 
which has made his name a watchword of hope and 
consolation to the oppressed of all the earth. In his 
intellectual training he was the pure creation of our 
own republican soil. Few, if any. allusions are to be 
seen in his speeches or writings to ancient or modern 
literature, or to the thoughts and ideas of other men. 



m —i— — — i g 

105 

His country, its institutions, its policy, its interests, 
its destiny, form the exclusive topics of those elo- 
quent harangues which, while they are destitute of 
the elaborate finish, have all the ardour and inten- 
sity of thought, the earnestness of purpose, the co- 
gency of reasoning, the vehemence of style, and the 
burning patriotism which mark the productions of 
the great Athenian orator. 

One of the most distinguishing characteristics of 
Mr. Clay as a public man was his loyalty to truth 
and to the honest convictions of his own mind. He 
deceived no man : he would not permit his own 
heart to be deceived by any of those seductive in- 
fluences which too often warp the judgment of men 
in public station. He never paused to consider how 
far any step which he was about to take would lead 
to his own personal advancement ; he never calcu- 
lated what he might lose or what he might gain by 
his advocacy of, or his opposition to, any particular 
measure. His single inquiry was, Is it right ? Is it 
in accordance with the Constitution of the land? 
Will it redound to the permanent welfare of the 
country? When satisfied upon these points, his 
determination was fixed ; his purpose was immova- 
ble. " I would rather be right than President" was 
the expression of his genuine feelings, and the prin- 
ciple by which he was controlled in his public career 
— a saying worthy of immortality, and proper to be 
inscribed upon the heart of every }'Oung man in this 



106 

Republic. And yet, sir, with all of thai personal 

and moral intrepidity which bo eminently marked 
the character of Mr. Clay; with his well-known in- 
flexibility of purpose and unyielding resolution, such 

was the genuine sincerity of his patriotism, and such 
his thorough comprehension of those principles of 
compromise, upon which the whole stricture of our 
Government was founded, that no one was more 
prompt to relax the rigour of his policy the moment 
he perceived that it was calculated to disturb the 
harmony of the States, or to endanger in any degree 
the stability of the Government. With him the 
love of this Union was a passion — an absorbing 
sentiment — which gave colour to every act of his 
public life. It triumphed over party; it triumphed 
over policy; it subdued the natural fierceness and 
haughtiness of his temper, and brought him into the 
most kindly and cordial relations with those who, 
upon all other questions, were deeply and bitterly 
opposed to him. It has been asserted, sir, upon high 
medical authority, and doubtless with truth, that 
his life was in all probability shortened ten years by 
the arduous and extraordinary labours which he as- 
sumed at the memorable session of L850. If so. he 
has added the crowning glory of the KABTTB to the 
spotless fame of the PATBIOT; and we may well hope 
that a great national pacification, purchased at such 
a sacrifice, will long continue to cement the bonds 
of this now happy and prosperous I nion. 



■ft 



C 1 — — 

107 

Mr. Clay possessed, in an eminent degree, the 
qualities of a great popular leader; and history, I 
will assume to say, affords no example in any repub- 
lic, ancient or modern, of any individual that so fear- 
lessly carried out the convictions of his own judg- 
ment, and so sparingly flattered the prejudices of 
popular feeling, who, for so long a period, exercised 
the same controlling influence over the public mind. 
Earnest in whatever measure he sustained, fearless 
in attack, — dexterous in defence, — abounding in in- 
tellectual resource, — eloquent in debate, — of inflexi- 
ble purpose, and with a "courage never to submit or 
yield," no man ever lived with higher qualifications 
to rally a desponding party, or to lead an embattled 
host to victory. That he never attained the highest 
post of honourable ambition in this country is not to 
be ascribed to any want of capacity as a popular 
leader, nor to the absence of those qualities which 
attract the fidelity and devotion of "troops" of admir- 
ing friends. It was the fortune of Napoleon, at a 
critical period of his destiny, to be brought into col- 
lision with the star of Wellington ; and it was the 
fortune of Henry Clay to have encountered, in his 
political orbit, another great and original mind, gifted 
with equal power for commanding success, and bless- 
ed with more fortunate elements, concurring at the 
time, of securing popular favour. The struggle was 
such as might have been anticipated from the colli- 
sion of two such fierce and powerful rivals. For 



108 

Dear a quarter of a century this great republic has 
been convulsed to its centre by the divisions which 

have sprung from their respective opinions, policy, 
and personal destinies; and even now, when they 
have both been removed to a higher and a better 
sphere of existence,, and when every unkind feeling 
has been quenched in the triumphs of the grave, this 
country still feels, and for years will continue to feci, 
the iniluence of those agitations to which their power- 
ful and impressive characters gave impulse. 

But I must pause. If I were to attempt to pre- 
sent all the aspects in which the character of this 
illustrious man will challenge the applause of his- 
tory, I should fatigue the House and violate the just 
limit allowed for such remarks. 

I cannot however conclude, sir, without making 
some more special allusion to Mr. Clay, as a native 
of that State which I have the honour in part to re- 
present upon this iloor. We are all proud, and very 
properly proud, of the distinguished men to whom our 
respective States have given birth. It is a just and 
laudable emulation, and one, in a confederated go- 
vernment like ours, proper to be encouraged. And 
while men like Mr. Ci.ay very rapidly rise above 
the confined limits of a State reputation, and acquire 
a national fame, in which all claim and all have an 
equal interest, still there is a propriety and fitness 
in preserving the relation between the individual and 
his State. Virginia has given birth to a large num- 



«- 



109 

ber of men who have by their distinguished talents 
and services impressed their names upon the hearts 
and memories of their countrymen; but certainly, 
since the colonial era, she has given birth to no man, 
who, in the massive and gigantic proportions of his 
character, and in the splendour of his native endow- 
ments, can be compared to Henry Clay. At an 
early age he emigrated from his native State, and 
found a home in Kentucky. In a speech which he 
delivered in the Senate of the United States, in Feb- 
ruary, 1842 — and which I well remember — upon the 
occasion of his resigning his seat in that body, he 
expressed the wish that, when that event should 
occur which has now clothed this city in mourning 
and filled the nation with grief, his "earthly remains 
should be laid under the green sod of Kentucky, with 
those of her gallant and patriotic sons." 

Sir, however gratifying it might be to us that his 
remains should be transferred to his native soil, to 
there mingle with the ashes of Washington, Jefferson, 
Madison, Lee^ and Henry, we cannot complain of the 
very natural preference which he has himself ex- 
pressed. If Virginia did give him birth — Kentucky 
has nourished him in his manhood — has freely lav- 
ished upon him her highest honours — has shielded 
him from harm when the clouds of calumny and de- 
traction gathered heavily and loweringly about him, 
and she has watched over his fame with the tender- 
ness and zeal of a mother. Sir, it is not to be won- 



110 

dered thai he should have expressed the wish lie did. 
to be laid by the side of her gallant and patriotic 
sons. Happy Kentucky! Happy in having an 
adopted son so worthy of her highest honours. 
Happy, in the unshaken fidelity and loyalty with 
which, for near half a century, those honours have 
been so steadfastly and gracefully accorded to him. 

Sir, whilst Virginia, in the exercise of her own 
proper judgment, has differed from Mr. Clay in some 
of his views of national policy, she has never, at any 
period of his public career, failed to regard him with 
pride, as one of her most distinguished sons; to ho- 
nour the purity and the manliness of his character, 
and to award to him the high credit of an honest and 
sincere devotion to his country's welfare. And now, 
sir, that death has arrested forever the pulsations of 
that mighty heart, and sealed in eternal silence tho 
eloquent lips upon whose accents thousands have so 
often hung in rapture, I shall stand justified in say- 
ing, that a wail of lamentation will he heard from 
her people — her whole people — reverberating through 
her mountains and valleys, as deep, as genuine, and 
as sincere as that, which I know, will swell the noble 
hearts and the heaving bosoms of the people of his 
own cherished, and beloved Kentucky. 

Sir, as 1 walked to the Capitol this morning, every 
object which attracted my eye, admonished me that 
a nation's benefactor had departed from amongst us. 
lie is gone! HENRY Ci.\y, the idol of his friends. 



111 

the ornament of the Senate Chamber, the pride of 
his country; he whose presence gathered crowds of 
his admiring fellow-men around him, as if he had 
been one descended from above, has passed for ever 
from our view. 

"His soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, has gone 
To that refulgent world, where it shall swim 
In liquid light, and float on seas of bliss." 

But the memory of his virtues and of his services 
will be gratefully embalmed in the hearts of his coun- 
tiymen, and generations yet unborn will be taught 
to lisp with reverence and enthusiasm the name of 
Henry Clay. 

Mr. Parkek, of Indiana, said : — 

Mr. Speaker: This is a solemn — a consecrated 
hour. And I would not detain the members of the 
House from indulging in the silence of their own feel- 
ings, so grateful to hearts chastened as ours. 

But I cannot restrain an expression from a bosom 
pained with its fulness. 

When my young thoughts first took cognisance of 
the fact that I have a country — my eye was attracted 
by the magnificent proportions of Henry Clay. 

The idea absorbed me then, that he was, above all 
other men, the embodiment of my country's genius. 

I have watched him; I have studied him; I have 
admired him — and, God forgive me! for he was but 



** 



112 

a man. "of like passions with us" — I fear I have 
idolized him, until this hour. 

But he has gone from among men; and it is for 
US now to awake and apply ourselves, with renewed 
fervour and increased fidelity, to the welfare of the 
country he loved so well and served so truly and bo 
long — the glorious country yet saved to us! 

Yes, Henry Clay has fallen, at last! — as the ripe 
oak falls, in the stillness of the forest. But the ver- 
dant and gorgeous richness of his glories will only 
lade and wither from the earth, when his country's 
history shall have been forgotten. 

" One generation passeth away and another gener- 
ation cometh." Thus it has been from the begin- 
ning, and thus it will be, until time shall be no 
longer. 

Yesterday morning, at eleven o'clock, the spirit 
of Henry Clay — so long the pride and glory of his 
own country, and the admiration of all the world — 
was yet with us, though struggling to be free. Ere 
"high noon" came, it had passed over "the dark 
river," through the gate, into the celestial city, in- 
habited by all the "just men made perfect." 

May not our rapt vision contemplate him there, 
this day, in sweet communion with the dear friends 
that have gone before him? — with Madison, and Jef- 
ferson, and Washington, and Henry, and Franklin — 
with the eloquent Tully, with the "divine Plato," 
with Aaron the Levite, who could "speak well" — 



m 

113 

with all the great and good, since and before the 
flood! 

His princely tread has graced these aisles for the 
last time. These halls will wake no more to the 
magic music of his voice. 

Pid that tall spirit, in its etherial form, enter the 
courts of the upper sanctuary, bearing itself compa- 
rably with the spirits there, as was his walk among 
men? 

Did the mellifluous tones of his greeting there 
enrapture the hosts of Heaven, comparably with his 
strains "to stir men's blood" on earth? 

Then, may we not fancy, when it was announced 
to the inhabitants of that better country, He comes! 
— He comes ! — there was a rustling of angel-wings — 
a thrilling joy — up tJiere, only to be witnessed once 
in an earthly age? 

Adieu ! — a last adieu to thee, Henry Clay ! 

The hearts of all thy countrymen are melted, on 
this day, because of the thought that thou art gone. 

Could we have held the hand of the "insatiate 
archer," thou hadst not died ; but thou wouldst have 
tarried with us, in the full grandeur of thy greatness, 
until we had no longer need of a country. 

But we thank our Heavenly Father that thou 
wast given to us; and that thou didst survive so 
long. 

We would cherish thy memory while we live, as 
our country's jewel — than which none is richer. 



11 1 

And we will teach our children the lessons of match- 
less patriotism thou hast taught us; with the fund 

hope that our Liberty and our Union may only ex- 
pire with "the last of earth." 

Mr. Gentry, sai<l : — 
Mr. SPEAKER: I do not rise to pronounce an eu- 
logy on the life and character and public services of 
the illustrious orator and statesman whose death this 
nation deplores. Suitably to perform that task, a 
higher eloquence than I possess might essay in vain. 
The gushing tears of the nation, the deep grief 
which oppresses the hearts of more than twenty mil- 
lions of people, constitute a more eloquent eulogium 
upon the life and character and patriot services of 
Henry Clay, than the power of language can express. 
In no part of our country is that character more ad- 
mired, or those public services more appreciated, than 
in the State which I have the honour, in part, to re- 
present. I claim for the people of that State a full 
participation in the general woe which the sad an- 
nouncement of to-day will everywhere inspire. 

Mr. BOWIE, said: — 

Mr. Speaker: I rise not to utter the measured 
phrases of premeditated woe, but to Bpeak as my con- 
stituency would, if they stood around the grave now 
opening to receive the mortal remains, not of a 

statesman only, but of a beloved friend. 



115 

If there is a State in this Union, other than Ken- 
tucky, which sends up a wail of more bitter and sin- 
cere sorrow than another, that State is Maryland. 

In her midst, the departed statesman was a fre- 
quent and a welcome guest. At many a board, and 
many a fireside, his noble form was the light of the 
eyes, the idol of the heart. Throughout her borders, 
in cottage, hamlet, and city, his name is a household 
word, his thoughts are familiar sentences. 

Though not permitted to be the first at his cradle, 
Maryland, would be the last at his tomb. 

Through all the phases of political fortune, amid 
all the storms which darkened his career, Maryland 
cherished him in her inmost heart, as the most gifted, 
patriotic, and eloquent of men. To this hour, pray- 
ers ascend from many domestic altars, evening and 
morning, for his temporal comfort and eternal wel- 
fare. In the language of inspiration, Maryland would 
exclaim, " There is a prince and a great man, fallen 
this day, in Israel." Daughters of America! weep 
for him "who hath clothed you in scarlet and fine 
linen." 

The husbandman at his plough, the artisan at the 
anvil, and the seaman on the mast, will pause and 
drop a tear when he hears Clay is no more. 

The advocate of Freedom in both hemispheres, he 
will be lamented alike on the shores of the Helles- 
pont and the banks of the Mississippi and Orinoco. 
The freed men of Liberia, learning and practising the 



■» 



116 

art of Belf-government, and civilizing Africa, have 
lost in him a patron and protector, a father and a 
friend. America mourns the eclipse of a luminary, 
which enlightened and illuminated the continent; 
the United States, a counsellor of deepest wisdom 
and purest purpose; mankind, the advocate of hu- 
man rights and constitutional liberty. 

Mr. Walsh, said : — 

Mr. Speaker: The illustrious man whose death 
we this day mourn, was so long my political leader 
— so long almost the object of my personal idolatry 
— that I cannot allow that he shall go down to the 
grave, without a word at least of affectionate remem- 
brance — without a tribute to a memory which will 
exact tribute as long as a heart shall be found to 
beat within the bosom of civilized man, and human 
agency shall be adequate in any farm to give them 
an expression; and even, sir, if I had no heartfelt 
sigh to pour out here — if I had no tear for that cof- 
fin's lid, I should do injustice to those whose repre- 
sentative in part T am, if I did not in this presence, 
and at this time, raise the voice to swell the accent^ 
of the profoundest public sorrow. 

The State of Maryland lias always vied with Ken- 
tucky in love and adoration of his name. Her peo- 
ple have gathered around him with all the fervour 
of a first affection, and with more than its duration. 
Troops of friends have ever clustered ahout his path- 



117 

way with a personal devotion which each man of 
them regarded as the highest individual honour — 
friends, sir, to whose firesides the tidings of his death 
will go with all the withering influences which are 
felt when household ties are severed. 

I wish, sir, I could offer now a proper memorial for 
such a subject and such an affection. But as I strive 
to utter it, I feel the disheartening influence of the 
well-known truth, that in view of death all minds 
sink into triteness. It would seem, indeed, sir, that 
the great leveller of our race would vindicate his title 
to be so considered, by making all men think alike in 
regard to his visitation — " the thousand thoughts that 
begin and end in one" — the desolation, here — the eter- 
nal hope hereafter — are influences felt alike by the 
lowest intellect and the loftiest genius. 

Mr. Speaker, a statesman for more than fifty 
years in the councils of his country, whose peculiar 
charge it was to see that the Republic suffered no de- 
triment — a patriot for all times, all circumstances, 
and all emergencies — has passed away from the 
trials and triumphs of the world, and gone to his 
reward. Sad as are the emotions which such an 
event would ordinarily excite, their intensity is 
heightened by the matters so fresh within the 
memories of us all : 

"Oh! think how to his latest day, 
When death, just hovering, claim'd his prey, 
With Palinurus' unalter'd mood, 
Firm at his dangerous post he stood, 

*> -® 



118 

Each '-'il! for needful rest repell'd, 
With dying hand the rudder held; 
Then while on freedom's thousand plains 
One unpolluted church remains, 
Whose peaceful bell sent around 

Moinly tocsin's maddening Bound, 
Bui -till, upon the hallow <l day, 
Convoke the swains to praise and pray, 
While faith and civil peaee are dear, 
Greet his cold marble with a tear, 
He who preserved them— Clat lies here." 

In a character;, Mr. Speaker, so illustrious and 
beautiful, it is difficult to select any point for parti- 
cular notice, from those which go to make up its 
noble proportions; but we may now. around his ho- 
noured grave, call to grateful recollection that invin- 
cible spirit which no personal sorrow could sully, and 
no disaster could overcome. Be assured, sir, that he 
has in this regard left a legacy to the young men of 
the Republic, almost as sacred and as dear as that 
liberty of which his life was a blessed illustration. 

We can all remember, sir, when adverse political 
results disheartened his friends, and made them feel 
even as men without hope, that his own clarion voice 
was still heard in the purpose and the pursuit of right, 
as bold and as eloquent as when it first proclaimed 
the freedom of the seas, and its talismanic tones 
struck oil' the badges of bondage from the lands of 
the Incas. and the plains of Marathon. 

Mr. Speaker, in the exultation of the statesman 
lie did not forget the duties of the man. He was an 

affectionate adviser on all points wherein inexpe- 



.*. 



119 

rienced youth might require counsel. He was a dis- 
interested sympathizer in personal sorrows that called 
for consolation. He was ever upright and honour- 
able in all the duties incident to his relations in 
life. 

To an existence so lovely, Heaven in its mercy 
granted a fitting and appropriate close. It was the 
prayer, Mr. Speaker, of a distinguished citizen, who 
died some years since in the metropolis, even while 
his spirit was fluttering for its final flight, that he 
might depart gracefully. It may not be presumptu- 
ous to say, that what was in that instance the aspi- 
ration of a chivalric gentleman, was in this the reali- 
zation of the dying Christian, in which was blended 
all that human dignity could require, with all that 
Divine grace had conferred; in which the firmness 
of the man was only transcended by the fervour of 
the penitent. 

A short period before his death he remarked to 
one by his bedside, " that he was fearful he was be- 
coming selfish, as his thoughts were entirely with- 
drawn from the world and centred upon eternity." 
This, sir, was but the purification of his noble 
spirit from all the dross of earth — a happy illustra- 
tion of what the religious muse has so sweetly 



sung- 



"No sin to stain — no lure to stay 
The soul, as home she springs; 
Thy sunshine on her joyful way, 
Thy freedom in her wings." 



e- 



120 

Mr. Speaker, the solemnities of this hour may soon 
be forgotten. We may come back from the new-made 
grave only still to show that we consider "eternity 
the bubble, life and time the enduring substance." 
We may not pause long enough by the brink to ask 
which of us revellers of to-day shall next be at rest. 
But l^e assured, sir, that upon the records of mortality 
will never be inscribed a name more illustrious than 
that of the statesman, patriot, and friend whom the 
nation mourns. 

The question was then put on the adoption of the resolu- 
tions proposed by Mr. Breckinridge, and they were unani- 
mously adopted. 



I? 
121 



ORDER OF PROCEEDINGS AT THE FUNERAL 



OF THE 



Hon.HENRY CLAY, 



A SENATOR OF THE UNITED STATES FROM THE STATE OF KENTUCKY. 



Thursday, July 1, 1842. 



The Committee of Arrangements, Pall-Bearers and Mourn- 
ers, attended at the National Hotel, the late residence of the 
deceased, at 11 o'clock, a. m. At half-past eleven the funeral 
procession to the Capitol was formed, in the following order : — 

The Chaplains of both Houses of Congress. 

Physicians who attended the deceased. 

Committee of Arrangements. 



Mr. Hunter, 
Mr. Dawson, 
Mr. Jones, of Iowa, 



Mr. Cooper, 
Mr. Bright, 
Mr. Smith. 



Pall-Bearers. 
Mr. Cass, ri Mr. Pratt, 

Mr. Mangum, § Mr. Atchison, 

Mr. Dodge, of Wis. 6 Mr. Bell. 

Committee to attend the remains of the deceased to 
Kentucky : — 



Mr. Underwood, 
Mr. Jones, of Tenn. 
Mr. Cass, 



Mr. Fish, 
Mr. Houston, 
Mr. Stockton. 



122 

The Family and Friends of the deceased. 

The Senators and Representatives from the State of Ken- 
tucky, as mourners. 

The Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate. 

The Senate of the United States, preceded hy their Presi- 
dent j?ro tempore, and Secretary. 

The other Officers of the Senate. 

The Sergeant-at-Arms of the House of Representatives. 

The House of Representatives, preceded by their Speak el- 
and Clerk. 

The other Officers of the House of Representatives. 

Judges of the United States. 

Officers of the Executive Departments. 

Officers of the Army and Navy. 

The Mayor and Corporation of Washington, and of other 
Cities. 

Civic Associations. 

Military Companies. 

Citizens and Strangers. 

The procession having entered the Senate Chamber, where 
the President of the United States, the Heads of Depart- 
ments, the Diplomatic Corps, and others were already 
present, the funeral service was performed by Rev. Dr. 
Butler, Chaplain to the Senate. 

At the conclusion of the service, the corpse was placed in 
the Rotunda, where it remained until half-past three o'clock, 

P.M., when it was removed, in charge of the Committi f 

Arrangements and Pall-Bearers, to the Railroad Depot, and 
confided t<» the Committee appointed to accompany it to 
Kentucky. 



■€ 



fire Strong Staff Jittthu nla ik §*atttiM J\flft. 



A SERMON 

DELIVERED IN THE SENATE CHAMBER OF THE UNITED STATES, 

JULY 1, 1352, 

ON THE OCCASION OF THE 

FUNERAL OF THE -HON. HENRY CLAY, 

BY THE 



KEY. C. M. BUTLER, D.D. 

CHAPLAIN OF THE SENATE. 



ft- 



SERMON. 



" How is the strong staff broken, and the beautiful rod !" — Jer. xlviii. 17. 

Before all hearts and minds in this august assem- 
blage the vivid image of one man stands. To some 
aged eye he may come forth, from the dim past, as 
he appeared in the neighbouring city of his native 
State, a lithe and ardent youth, full of promise, of 
ambition, and of hope. To another he may appear 
as, in a distant State, in the courts of justice, erect, 
high-strung, bold, wearing the fresh forensic laurel 
on his young and open brow. Some may see him 
in the earlier, and some in the later, stages of his 
career, on this conspicuous theatre of his renown ; 
and to the former he will start out on the back- 
ground of the past, as he appeared in the neighbour- 
ing chamber, tall, elate, impassioned — with flashing 
eye, and suasive gesture, and clarion voice, an al- 
ready acknowledged " Agamemnon, King of Men ;" 
and to others he will again stand in this chamber, 
"the strong staff" of the bewildered and staggering- 
State, and " the beautiful rod," rich with the blos- 
soms of genius, and of patriotic love and hope, the 
life of youth still remaining to give animation, grace, 
and exhaustless vigour, to the wisdom, the experience, 

125 



126 

and the gravity of age. To others he may be pre- 
sent as he sat in the chamber of sickness, cheerful, 
majestic, gentle — his mind clear, his heart warm, 
his hope lixed on Heaven, peacefully preparing for 
his last great change. To the memory of the mi- 
nister of God he appears as the penitent, humble, and 
peaceful Christian, who received him with the affec- 
tion of a father, and joined with him in solemn 
sacrament and prayer, with the gentleness of a wo- 
man, and the humility of a child. "Out of the 
strong came forth sweetness." " How is the strong 
staff broken, and the beautiful rod !" 

But not before this Assembly only, does the ven- 
erated image of the departed Statesman, this day, 
distinctly stand. For more than a thousand miles — 
east, west, north, and south — it is known and re- 
membered, that at this place and hour, a nation's 
Representatives assemble to do honour to him whose 
fame is now a nation's heritage. A nation's mighty 
heart throbs against this Capitol, and beats through 
you. In many cities banners droop, bells toll, can- 
nons boom, funereal draperies wave. In crowded 
streets and on sounding wharfs, upon steamboats and 
upon cars, in fields and in workshops, in homes, in 
schools, millions of men, women, and children have 
their thoughts fixed upon this scene, and say mourn- 
fully to each other, "This is the hour in which, 
at the Capitol, the nation's Representatives are 



•>• 



§ ' m 

127 

burying Henry Clay." Burying Henry Clay ! 
Bury the records of your country's history — bury 
the hearts of living millions — bury the mountains, 
the rivers, the lakes, and the spreading lands from 
sea to sea, with which his name is inseparably asso- 
ciated, and even then you would not bury Henry 
Clay — for he lives in other lands, and speaks in 
other tongues, and to other times than our's. 

A great mind, a great heart, a great orator, a great 
career, have been consigned to history. She will re- 
cord his rare gifts of deep insight, keen discrimina- 
tion, clear statement, rapid combination, plain, di- 
rect, and convincing logic. She will love to dwell 
on that large, generous, magnanimous, open, forgiv- 
ing heart. She will linger, with fond delight, on the 
recorded and traditional stories of an eloquence that 
was so masterful and stirring, because it was but 
himself, struggling to come forth on the living words 
— because, though the words were brave and strong, 
and beautiful and melodious, it was felt that, behind 
them there was a soul braver, stronger, more beauti- 
ful, and more melodious, than language could ex- 
press. She will point to a career of statesmanship 
which has, to a remarkable degree, stamped itself 
on the public policy of the country, and reached, in 
beneficent practical results, the fields, the looms, the 
commercial marts, and the quiet homes of all the 
land, where his name was, with the departed fathers, 



■» 



128 

and is with the living children, and will be, with suc- 
cessive generations, an honoured household word. 

I feel, as a man, the grandeur of this career. But 
as an immortal, with this broken wreck of mor- 
tality, before me, with this scene as the "end-all" of 
human glory, I feel that no career is truly great but 
that of him who, whether he be illustrious or ob- 
scure, lives to the future in the present, and linking 
himself to the spiritual world, draws from God the 
life, the rule, the motive, and the reward of all his 
labour. So would that great spirit which has de- 
parted say to us, could he address us now. So did 
he realize, in the calm and meditative close of life. 
I feel that I but utter the lessons which, living, were 
his last and best convictions, and which, dead, would 
be, could he speak to us, his solemn admonitions, 
when I say that statesmanship is then only glorious, 
when it is Christian: and that man is then onlv 
safe, and true to his duty, and his soul, when the 
life which he lives in the flesh is the life of faith in 
the Son of God. 

Great, indeed, is the privilege, and most honoura- 
ble and useful is the career, of a Christian Ameri- 
can statesman. He perceives that civil liberty came 
from the freedom wherewith Christ made its early 
martyrs and defenders free. He recognises it as one 
of the twelve manner of fruits on the Tree of Life, 
which, while its lower branches furnish the best mi- 



129 

triment of earth, hangs on its topmost boughs, which 
wave in Heaven, fruits that exhilarate the immortals. 
Recognising the State as God's institution, he will 
perceive that his own ministry is divine. Living 
consciously under the eye, and in the love and fear 
of God ; redeemed by the blood of Jesus ; sanctified 
by His Spirit ; loving His law ; he will give himself, 
in private and in public, to the service of his Sa- 
viour. He will not admit that he may act on less 
lofty principles in public, than in private life; and 
that he must be careful of his moral influence in the 
small sphere of home and neighbourhood, but need 
take no heed of it when it stretches over continents 
and crosses seas. He will know that his moral re- 
sponsibility cannot be divided and distributed among 
others. When he is told that adherence to the 
strictest moral and religious principle is incompa- 
tible with a successful and eminent career, he will 
denounce the assertion as a libel on the venerated 
Fathers of the Republic — a libel on the honoured liv- 
ing and the illustrious dead — a libel against a great 
and Christian nation — a libel against God himself, who 
has declared and made "godliness profitable for the 
life that now is." He will strive to make laws the 
transcripts of the character, and institutions illustra- 
tions of the providence of God. He will scan with 
admiration and awe the purposes of God in the fu- 
ture history of the world, in throwing open this wide 



l:;u 

Continent, from sea to sea, as the abode of freedom, 
intelligence, plenty, prosperity, and peace; and feel 
that in giving his energies with a patriot's love, to 
the welfare of his country, he is consecrating him- 
self, with a Christian's zeal, to the extension and 
establishment of the Redeemer's kingdom. Com- 
pared with a career like this, which is equally open 
to those whose public sphere is large or small, how 
paltry are the trade of patriotism, the tricks of 
statesmanship, the rewards of successful baseness! 
This hour, this scene, the venerated dead, the coun- 
try, the world, the present, the future, God, duty. 
Heaven, hell, speak trumpet-tongued to all in the 
service of their country, to. beware how they lay pol- 
luted or unhallowed hands 

" Upon the ark 
Of her magnificent and awful cause!" 

Such is the character of that statesmanship which 
alone would have met the full approval of the vene- 
rated dead. For the religion which always had a 
place in the convictions of his mind, had also, within 
a recent period, entered into his experience, and 
seated itself in his heart. Twenty years since he 
wrote — " I am a member of no religious sect, and I 
am not a professor of religion. I regret that I am 
not. I wish that I was, and trust that I shall be. I 
have, and always have had, a profound regard for 



131 

Christianity, the religion of my fathers, and for its 
rites, its usages, and observances." That feeling 
proved that the seed sown by pious parents, was not 
dead though stifled. A few years since, its dormant 
life was re-awakened. lie was baptized in the com- 
munion of the Protestant Episcopal Church; and 
during his sojourn in this city, he was in full com- 
munion with Trinity Parish. 

It is since his withdrawal from the sittings of the 
Senate, that I have been made particularly ac- 
quainted with his religious opinions, character, and 
feelings. From the commencement of his illness he 
always expressed to me his persuasion that its ter- 
mination would be fatal. From that period until his 
death, it was my privilege to hold frequent religious 
services and conversations with him in his room. He 
avowed to me his full faith in the great leading doc- 
trines of the Gospel — the fall and sinfulness of man, 
the divinity of Christ, the reality and necessity of 
the Atonement, the need of being born again by the 
Spirit, and salvation through faith in a crucified Re- 
deemer. His own personal hopes of salvation, he 
ever and distinctly based on the promises and the 
grace of Christ. Strikingly perceptible, on his na- 
turally impetuous and impatient character, was the 
influence of grace in producing submission, and " a 
patient waiting for Christ," and for death. On one 
occasion he spoke to me of the pious example of one 



* — i 



L32 

very near and dear to him, as that which led him 
deeply to feel, and earnestly to seek for himself, the 

reality and the blessedness of religion. On another 
occasion, he told me that he had been striving to 
form a conception of Heaven; and he enlarged upon 
the mercy of that provision by which our Saviour 
became a partaker of our humanity, that our hearts 
and hopes might fix themselves on him. On another 
occasion, when he was supposed to he very near his 
end, I expressed to him the hope that his mind and 
heart were at peace, and that he was able to re>t 
with cheerful confidence on the promises, and in the 
merits of the Redeemer. He said, with much feel- 
ing, that he endeavoured to, and trusted that he did 
repose his salvation upon Christ; that it was too 
late for him to look at Christianity in the light of 
speculation; that he had never doubted of its truth; 
and that he now wished to throw himself upon it 
as a practical and blessed remedy. Very soon after 
this, I administered to him the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper. Being extremely feeble, and desirous 
of having his mind undiverted, no persons were 
present, but his son and his servant. It was a seen.' 
long to be remembered. There, in that still cham- 
ber, at a week-day noon, the tides of life flowing all 
around us. throe disciples of the Saviour, the minis- 
ter of (iod. the dying statesman, and his servant, 
a partaker ^i' the like precious faith, commemorated 



«■ 



13:) 

their Saviour's dying love. He joined in the blessed 
sacrament with great feeling and solemnity, now 
pressing his hands together, and now spreading them 
forth, as the words of the service expressed the feel- 
ings, desires, supplications, confessions, and thanks- 
givings, of his heart. His e}'es were dim with grate- 
ful tears, his heart was full of peace and love ! Af- 
ter this he rallied, and again I was permitted fre- 
quently to join with him in religious services, con- 
versation, and prayer. He grew in grace and in 
the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. Among the books which, in connection with 
the Word of God, he read most, were "Jay's Morn- 
ing and Evening Exercises," the "Life of Dr. Chal- 
mers," and " The Christian Philosopher Triumphant 
in Death." His hope continued to the end to be, 
though true and real, tremulous with humility rather 
than rapturous with assurance. When he felt most 
the weariness of his protracted sufferings, it sufficed 
to suggest to him that his Heavenly Father doubt- 
less knew, that after a life so lona: and stirring, and 
tempted, such a discipline of chastening and suffer- 
ing was needful to make him more meet for the in- 
heritance of the saints — and at once words of meek 
and patient acquiescence escaped his lips. 

Exhausted nature at length gave way. On the 
last occasion, when I was permitted to offer a brief 
prayer at his bedside, his last words to me were that 



»«« 



134 

he had hope only in Christ, and that the prayer 
which 1 had offered for his pardoning love, and his 
sanctifying grace, included every thing which the dy- 
ing need. On the evening previous to his departure, 
sitting for an hour in silence by his side, I could not 
but realize, when I heard him, in the slight wander- 
ings of his mind to other days, and other scenes, 
murmuring the words, "My mother! Mother! Mo- 
ther!" and saying "J/y dear wife!" as if she were 
present, and frequently uttering aloud, as if in re- 
sponse to some silent Litany of the soul, the simple 
prayer, " Lord, have mercy upon me !" — I could not 
but realize then, and rejoice to think how near was 
the blessed reunion of his weary heart with the 
loved dead, and with her — Our dear Lord gently 
smooth her passage to the tomb ! — who must soon fol- 
low him to his rest — whose spirits even then seemed 
to visit, and to cheer his memory and his hope. 
Gently he breathed his soul away into the spirit 
world. 



" How blest the righteous when they .lie I 
When holy souls retire t.> rest, 
1 1 . w mildly beams tin- closing eye, 
Bow gently heaves the expiring breast! 



"So fades the Bummer cloud away, 

So sinks ili.' gale when storms are o'er, 
So gently shuts the eye of day, 
So dies the wave upon tin- shore !" 



Be it ours to follow him, in the same humble and 
submissive faith, to Heaven. Could he speak to us 
the counsels of his latest human, and his present 
Heavenly, experience, sure I am that he would not 
only admonish us to cling to the Saviour, in sickness 
and in death: but abjure us not to delay to act upon 
our first convictions, that we might give our best 
powers and fullest influence to God, and go to the 
grave with a hope, unshadowed by the long worldli- 
ness of the past, or by the films of fear and doubt 
resting over the future. 

The strong staff is broken, and the beautiful rod 
is despoiled of its grace and bloom ; but in the light 
of the eternal promises, and by the power of 
Christ's resurrection, we joyfully anticipate the pros- 
pect of seeing that broken staff erect, and that 
beautiful rod clothed with celestial grace, and blos- 
soming with undying life and blessedness in the 
Paradise of God. 



THE END. 



.« 



W 734 



